


Magical Masquerade [Marth x F!Kris Fanfic Novel]

by Catgame21234



Category: Fire Emblem Echoes: Mou Hitori no Eiyuu Ou | Fire Emblem Echoes: Shadows of Valentia, Fire Emblem: Shin Monshou no Nazo | Fire Emblem: New Mystery of the Emblem
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bodyguard Romance, Canon Compliant, Character Death, Comedy, Consensual, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fantasy, First Kiss, First Love, First Time, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Healthy Relationships, Hurt/Comfort, Long, Mildly Dubious Consent, My First AO3 Post, My First Fanfic, Novel, Nudity, Post-Canon, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Scandalous handholding, Serious, Sloppy Makeouts, Slow Burn, Slow Dancing, Yes there will be a Masquerade Ball
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-23
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-14 05:54:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 125,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29662746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catgame21234/pseuds/Catgame21234
Summary: Caeda is dead - she's been dead. The War of Heroes has come to an end. A new era of peace reigns - yet - Marth no longer has the love of his life by his side.The kingdoms of his continent are uniting under the young prince who saved the world twice. As he travels to ensure unity maintains before he heads home after the war, in the back of Marth's mind he knows that soon he must find a queen. Without a line of lineage, his era of peace he's forging may not stay. Though the table scraps that are left of his family pull their schemes to help find him "a new mate", it's by Fate's indirect hand that he finds his own partner.That person was the one who kept his life full of joy and laughter as they marched in war. They were born in the dirt without an ounce of blue blood in her veins. That person was his lone Royal Guard. She was Kris, Marth's best friend. And they'll stumble stupidly into their love like the fools Caeda would fondly remember them always being behind closed doors.
Relationships: Alm/Anthiese | Celica, Marth/My Unit | Kris, Marth/Sheeda | Caeda, Merric/Elice
Comments: 2
Kudos: 12





	1. Prologue: A Victory Ringing Half Hollow

**Author's Note:**

> Approximate length of the project; ~200 pages, ~20 pages per chapter.

The long, tragic battle that would later be called the ‘War of Heroes’ finally came to an end and tales of the heroes who took part in this war would bring excitement and tears for generations - but the recovery will be slow. Prince Marth of Altea slew the keystone of the enemy’s opposition - The Shadow Dragon - and the might of both his light and the champion’s proof - The Binding Shield - he warded away the earth dragons back underground. The catharsis within Marth’s army was near-instant. Even those who have traveled with the Prince for years hungry to depart allowed themselves to celebrate before their callings dragged them elsewhere. Past enemies, monstrous allies, foreigners, all walks of life made his army. Amongst them was Marth’s Royal Guard - who she herself suffered much. She took the time to part from Marth’s side for the first time since the war started to mingle with her celebrating crew.

“W-we’ve … Won? This feels so unreal”. The smallest of their group, Sir Ryan the archer, was running his fingers through his short green hair still catching his breath from having to snipe down dragons and warriors alike not but two hours ago.

“Somebody pinch me—OUCH”! The self-proclaimed ‘Paladin of Light’ Luke pinched on Ryan’s cheek and yanked the poor soul up.

Luke chortled a response as Ryan was able to free himself from the trap. “Hey, you asked for it! But truly, our battles will be told as legends for generations to come! I wonder how bloated my stunning tales will become - and how unaware the masses will the truth will be grander than their fiction-! OUCH”.

The Royal Guard swung their fist at Sir Luke, the punch hard enough to knock the poor man off balance. She flicked her silver gauntlets to shake her knuckles. She held a smirk as she saw the visible dent she was able to make into Sir Luke’s armor. Luke cradled his arm as he looked at his orange-clad commander down timidly.

“Yeesh Dame Kris, watch yourself! You could have shattered the Paladin of Light’s mighty arm! How can I cradle the children mothers will beg for me to be held when we parade around Altea upon our return?!”

As Luke paddled on, Dame Kris chuckled at Luke’s usual antics as she rested her hands on the back of her head. Her nails hooked onto the rope that bound her blue hair in a ponytail as she rocked back and forth of her well-worn boots.

“I can’t just have you beat up Sir Ryan now, Sir Luke. A true knight always protects the honor of fellow knights.”

Luke dismissed Kris with a hand wave, earning yet another chuckle from both Ryan and Kris alike. “Ah cut it out with Old Jagen’s lectures of Chivalry, Commander. I think we can take at least a day off from being ‘knights’ to celebrate something as grand as this.”

Ryan pitched in. “You know, for once I agree with you. It truly is a new world!”

“Hahaha!” Kris slapped her knee and was grinning ear to ear. “A new world indeed Sir Ryan! Perhaps Sir Luke might drop his act yet”.

The Paladin of Light stuck out his tongue at her, which generated a few more impish giggles from Marht’s Royal Guard. Hearing the commotion attracted another platoon member to the source. The Best friend to the Paladin of Light - the steady squire Sir Roderick - heard the laughter and made his way through the crowds of warriors over to his platoon’s little get-together.

“Getting carried away as usual Luke?”

Kris welcomed their tall green armored-clad friend with a warm smile. “Hail Sir Roderick”.

Roderick was quick to return the same gentle gesture in return. “To you as well, Dame Kris”.

As soon as the greeting exchanges were made his smile faded. His sweat dripped brow hair was a vail to his worried eyebrows. The fatigue of the battle still was written over him, and something was blocking him from letting the sweet taste of victory ease his mind. Dame Kris was able to read their close friend well and folded her arms to assume a more reserved stance.

“You don’t appear hurt Sir Roderick, but you clearly look out of the weather. Is everything alright”?

“Commander, do you know where Prince Marth is located?”

“Why, he was with Sir Jagen last I saw him. I left his side to celebrate a bit with all of you”.

Roderick shook his head no as his worry grew.

“I saw him walking away from our army, back over to the Shadow Dragon’s corpus by himself. It felt rude to follow him and he looked worried - but I know you’re not blocked by that social bound”.

Kris lowered her arms with the worried energy being transferred from Roderick and onto her. She gave them a stiff head nod and went jogging after the said direction. The small knight Ryan watched their commander run away sadden seeing she had to go.

“You didn’t need to send her running”, Ryan said as he hugged himself. “It’s been so long since we could talk…”

The steady squire Roderick gave an empathetic smile to Ryan. “I’m sorry”.

Luke rested his hands behind his head as he swayed his weight nonchalantly from side to side. “When was the last time you got to chat with her? Now you’re just feeding my curiosity Ryan. She always talks to me”.

“I think you mean ‘she lectures you’, Luke”, Roderick retorted.

“Bite me, Rody”.

“When I’m hungry I will”.

The green archer stared at the ground as he swallowed his spit. He had to force what he wanted to say out. He was sure he kept his voice down so that his two fellow platoon mates could hear him.

“Last time I got to spend some time with her was right after when Caeda… You know…”

The color that once filled Luke’s face turned a tint of grey. The boastful knight pivoted to watch Kris run off to catch up with Marth. Roderick focused instead on cheating up Ryan.

“That’s why I wanted her to go”, Roderick said. “The last thing Marth needs is to be alone right now”.

“I remember you saying that before”, Ryan sighed as he gave Roderick his attention. “Just how long does it take for something like to…you know…Pass, I think?”

Luke swiped his nose as he chipped in as he watched Kris finally slip out of sight after losing her sense of direction.

“Lots of time Ryan… Just gotta stand by and hope for the best. If there is anyone who can help pick the Prince back up on his feet though, it’s her. She picked up all of us”.

Roderick rubbed his chin with a smirk. “Look at you being insightful for a change”.

The banter between Ryan’s friends was able to calm his anxiety. That peaceful bliss however was about to be shattered by the mighty light that was Luke, the Paladin of Dawn.

“A true man of culture must be able to appreciate every aspect of a woman, Rody! How else will I be able to hold up after the first date? We’re going to be swimming in women who would wanna date us when we get back, It’s going to be great!!”

“. . .” Both Ryan and Roderick looked at one another. In unison they turned their backs on Luke and walked away together, to the shock of Luke.

“Hey wait where are you guys going!?”

\- - - -

_“Damn, you think I’d know which way the dragon was that we just fought. It’s a miracle I’ve made it this far.”_

Kris thought to themselves as they had to use the carnage of battle that raged before to retrace her steps. She was so busy looking at the ground that she nearly missed her Prince and the massive dead purple dragon two stone throws away from her. She heard his voice speak which finally got her attention.

“There you are”.

The sound of her soft Prince’s voice made her lift her head and look to the direction of the sound. But she saw Marth approaching one of their companions. A tall crimson-robed wizard with a narrowed beard as white as ash - Lord Gotoh. She could not see her prince’s face, but his voice was caring as ever. She could hear his smile in his words. The tall wizard hardly paid much mind to Marth as he stared at the dead Shadow Dragon.

Kris was a safe distance back but wanted to give Marth his moment she walked lightly till she was hiding behind one of the tall marble pillars. It provided shielding from the magic spells that were once swung across this battle chamber, and once again served it’s same purpose. Kris rested her hands over her heart and on her marble white breastplate. As she sighed in relief, her messy bangs drooped down like tired antennas.

_“At least you sound in high spirits, Sire. I couldn’t be happier”._

The blue prince approached the mythical sage from behind.

“I didn’t see you with everyone else. A part of me was worried you left us up this tall tower by ourselves”. Marth said as he stood by Gotoh’s side with a smile. The otherworldly wizard cracked his own smile - for Marth was the first human that could soothe this ancient soul.

Gotoh put his hand onto his chest and spoke from the heart. “And leave you upon this epic tower, miles away from civilization? Do not worry, for once everyone’s excitement calms down I’ll teleport you back to Altea, then the rest can wonder there. Let them enjoy their merriment”.

He returned his weathered hands back into his long sleeves and stared back at the epic dragon before them. Marth’s weariness started to creep back into his face. Exhaling, he looked at the dead Shadow Dragon as well as he reviewed every sword strike he made upon this threat to the world.

“…Yes…”

Though the war was now over, its chilling grip still strangled the Prince’s throat. He rubbed his neck as he glanced away at the ground and he thought to himself.

_“Why am I not happy? Everything is over… There’s no more suffering. Even Gotoh is smiling yet I-…”_

The wise sage Gotoh possessed a blessed ability to sense intent. Though he could not read Marth’s thoughts, he knew why Marth glanced away from the body before them. He knew well too that his prized Royal Guard was not too far away, hiding, because of their worry for the poor blue-robed boy. He straightened out his back and spoke clearly for even his royal guard to hear.

“Marth… brave Prince of Altea. Thanks to your valiant efforts, Shadow Dragon Medeus lays dead before us just now.”

Both Kris and Marth knew from his tone that he was about to bless them with one last word of wisdom before they parted ways. Marth pivoted and firmly gave his undivided attention to him. Kris still gripping her heart, snaked slowly around the pillar so she could watch. Both of the heroes were neutral - yet Kris was allowed to show the hint of worry in their expression.

Gotoh continued.

“Medeus’s servants — the earth dragons — have once again returned to the darkness. As long as the Binding Shield exists, they will never see the light again. Marth, the chosen Prince of Light, descendant of the hero Anri. you have not only saved mankind, but us dragonkin as well….”

The sage turned to face the stoic Marth. Kris coiled back behind her pillar and stared off into space - still dedicating her full attention to the Manakete Sage Gotoh.

“…But I realized now this victory must be bittersweet at best for you. Having lost the one you loved, you must live on alone. I am deeply sorry, Marth…. In exchange for this world’s future, you have lost something far more precious.”

Those words cut at the Prince’s blue armor as he glanced away. His sturdy face refused to cave to his boiling emotions. Kris however curled up while in hiding - a worried scorn was chiseled into her face. Marth had to take a moment to collect himself. Hearing Marth’s deep breaths made Kris’s gut coil and turn at her failure.

“…The world is more precious than my fiery love, Lord Gotoh. I know I can find solace in this…one day…”

He hid a scorn of anger as he clenched his fight tightly. Marth was cursing himself from his inability to protect her. Gotoh saw this anger and attempted to diffuse it.

“No matter how strong the light is - blind in rage as it may be - it always has someone by their side. A friend I dare say - at the very least that”.

The puzzling wording took the prince off guard. His hand relaxed as he twitched his head.

“Blind in rage? Someone? But… I don’t have anyone”. Prince Marth thought to himself.

He looked back up at Gotoh, his body now free to express his perplexed emotions.

“What friend does a light have? I don’t understand”.

“You are the light, and Caeda was your shadow”.

His steady words were enough to knock this warrior prince to submission. Once again Marth looked away, now with his pain starting to show through his expression. Yet still Gotoh continued through his pain.

“I will pray to Naga day and night for you to find your new shadow yet, who will follow your wake till the end of your days - like Caeda did before…Your battles may still continue - internally - but if there’s anyone that can recover from a wicked twist of fate such as this, it would be the young man who restored my faith in humanity, Prince Marth…”

The white sage Gotoh rested his hand on Marth’s shoulder. The elder slid his hand to the Prince’s cheek to rub it gently, before petting the Prince’s blue hair in his forehead with his thumb. The Sage was tempted to cast a healing spell to make the prince feel warm again - but the simple human act of being touched was enough for the Prince to swallow his walls and crack a wide yet still weak grin. His breath was heavy as he repressed the urge to cry. Once it was apparent Marth’s breathing exercises were allowing him to stabilize himself Gotoh moved back to clasping his hands together in his sleeves. Marth rubbed his face clean with his fingerless gloves and adjusted the tiara on his head. He fixed his cape that was sliding off and rolled his heavy shoulders to get his tunic to stop balling up underneath his battle-dented shoulder pads.

“Thank you, Gotoh… For everything… Do you think my Father would be proud of me right now?…My mother too… I know Elice would be but…”

The orphan Prince was lost for words and looked up to Gotoh for guidance, which the elder did give with a silent and slow nod of approval. Seeing the approval allowed the Prince to breathe in a steady rhythm once again, the same breathing pattern he had when approaching Gotoh. Marth nodded his head back with their mutual understanding achieved. The white sage Gotoh turned back to the Shadow Dragon’s body to analyze it once more.

“I will handle disposing of this rubbish so it may not be used as a wicked puppet. You need not worry about external forces for I’ll guard your efforts and ensure they last. When you are ready come back to me, and I can return you home.”

Marth nodded with his ever-present smile. “Thank you lord Gotoh. Knowing you’d be watching over does put me at ease”.

With one last nod, he bid Gotoh farewell and went to return to the army.

As he was walking past the ruins and lines of pillars, Marth heard the shuffling of feet behind one of them.

_“Is that an enemy we missed?”_

He rested his hand over his sword handle as he continued to walk. He kept his eyes forward as to not alert whoever was there that he was watching. He however recognized the uniform he was able to get a grasp of - an orange short tunic with beige shorts, red scarf, and blue hair like his. Marth huffed out a smirk as he relaxed his hand that was on his sword.

_“I should have guessed it was you, Kris. Polite to a fault still- I bet she didn’t want to walk in on us. Though, I currently hope she didn’t overhear too much”._

The short longer he looked at her though gave him more time to register how she was hiding. Her hands were over her mouth, with her biting her knuckles. She was hunched over, shaking, and breathing sporadically. A cold wave of worry chilled Marth’s forehead as he watched her.

_“What happened? Is she okay?”_ He thought to himself as he went to approach her. Yet hearing the worlds that she was mumbling made his muscles lock in place.

“Caeda I-….” Kris continued to breathe through the continued echoes of regret that made her deft. She shook her head as her eyes searched for reason in her twisted hell. “It’s all my fault… No, I know it’s not- Marth is all alone because of this- …. Breathe, Breathe….”

Kris concluded whispering to herself by focusing on taking heavy breaths through her nostrils. Her silver gauntlets covered muffled the sounds she was making to the point of near silence. Marth still watched her gut extend up and down, the only sound she was making was the very slight rattling of her sword that was strapped to her belt. Marth watched on in pain watching his most trusted confidant struggle still with his mistakes, and the fact she was blaming herself.

_“Kris…. I can’t have you stuck thinking like I do, too”._

He took one step forward and thought about what he was going to say to her next. The words still escaped him. He watched her breathing slowly getting more controlled. He looked away to ponder what would be a less confrontational way to approach this situation. Thinking he found the right path, he swallowed his nerves and started to walk backwards away from Kris to hide behind his own pillar.

Kris lightly patted her cheeks once she reached the peak of control. She nodded her head yes to herself as if to affirm that she was sound. She glanced around the empty dragon throne room and started to meander around. She walked in the middle of the hall and scratched her head.

“Which ….way did he go?”

She mumbled to herself as she was taking only a few steps around in a circle trying to think which way Marth went. Once she finally chose a direction to hunt for him she headed to her goal to find him. She was then promptly startled by Marth walking up from behind her.

“There you are-”

“AHHA!”

She hopped a great distance back due to her slow draw of her sword from its scabbard. Seeing her Prince hold back laughing at her surprise made her relax from her battle-ready stance. She rocked on her heels then held her hips in a huff.

“Don’t sneak up on me like that. I thought you were a foe”.

“Apologies. I was looking for you though, my friend”. Marth said, as he approached, influenced by Kris’s calm aura. Seeing him relaxed eased Kris’s state as well. The positive feedback loop was so strong that, for a moment, both of them forgot they were far away from home and were simply back in one of the grand halls in Altea castle - their home.

“You were looking for me? I stepped away for only a little bit, then I heard of a report that you were running off suddenly. You make me work hard that’s for sure”, Kris said with a smile so pure it showed her teeth. It was infectious and he smiled back in equal share.“ I bet Sir Jagen would be more worried sick than me with us suddenly gone. Allow me to walk you back. We’re still technically in enemy territory after all”. Kris gestured for him to follow and the two walked back side by side as they continued their chat.

“I’m sorry to make you worry”, Marth said.

“Ah…. No worries”, Kris replied which was followed by a short silence and a small realization. “Uh….. Many worries yes, but some worries still. Not a lot! But some still.“

“Hohoahahah…” Marth let out a winded laugh as Kris joined in with a silent ear-to-ear grin. The laughter helped clear the Prince’s mind, and he knew deep down he had to help her cope with this stress too. His smile faded slightly but was still there for the love he held for her.

“Thank you, Kris. For protecting me and supporting me. No amount of thanks would ever be enough”.

There was silence from her, which he anticipated. She clasped her hands together as she took in his sincere thanks - even after failing to protect Princesses Caeda, Prince Marth’s Fianceé. Their walking speed slowed considerably, both of them well-tuned to one another.

Kris twiddled her thumbs together. “Even with… Lady Caeda. The Kingdom - no.”

She looked away from him to correct herself. “The kingdoms, they would need you to have an heir”.

“Allow me to worry about that, not you”.

Kris turned her head up to Marth, her blue eyes filled with nothing but worry for him.

 _“When she looks worried like that, it’s like looking at my own reflection”_ , he thought to himself as he nodded back at her with his ever-present smile and gentle voice. “Or perhaps we could share that worry, together? Does that make you feel better?”

“I’m not sure what that would exactly entail, Sire, but I would like that yes”. She confessed as she looked down at her boots. “Any way that I can, I want to help you”.

Marth looked away with nostalgia for better, hopeful days passing him by. Yet he still smiled for they at least happened. “Even if she was here, we wouldn’t be able to wed you know. There’s a lot of restoration we have to do. As blissful as it would have been, starting a family just wouldn’t have the time right now. You think you can help me beyond just being my guard and help me with restoring the lands?”

Kris seemed to relax now given a goal in mind. “I don’t know a lot about paperwork, but I’ll do what I can. I can get Sir Cain to train me in that too perhaps, just like how he trained me to become a knight!” Her smile was back in her step and her mind started to drift into more pleasant thoughts. “Yet now that I say that out loud, thinking about The Bull being good at paperwork or royal decrees and not just fighting is an odd thought to think about''.

“Oh, that reminds me!”, Marth said with his eyes lighting up. He ceased walking and fully turned to face her. “You remember when we won back Altea, and all the rumors of my feats?”

Kris partly covered her mouth chuckling. “Ah! Right! A good number of people who saw us mixed us for each other. I don’t see how - but - rumors are rumors”.

“That’s a relief knowing you’re aware of it. Among the people, your deeds are being told as things I’ve done alone. That just will not do”, Marth said nodding with a smile. “Once we return to the castle, I’ll do what I can to set the rumors straight. Your deeds should be shared with me, I think you would like that a lot and should cheer you up. Wouldn’t you agree?”

The same excitement was not shared with Kris as she folded her arms in thought before responding.

“If you allow me, Sire… I have no need for a name. I don’t want stories to be told of me”.

Marth blinked once at her then tilted his head. “Kris…?”

The love and happiness Marth was attempting to find for her suddenly surface right before him. A slight blush of pride was washed across Kris’s face. She rested her hand on her chest as she spoke.

“Sire. With this war now over, a hero will be needed. A hero called Prince Marth. There are still hostilities between people who have fought for so long. Those won’t simply disappear overnight. In order to have everyone’s agreement, a king everyone recognizes — a godlike hero is needed. And that hero must be you, and you alone”.

Seeing her joy at being cast aside left Marth in a state of utter bewilderment.

“But then, what you’ve done so far - for me - the people - all of it would be…I don’t understand. You were by my side and we did our equal share of work. I would only be viewed as a hero because many would simply see me as existing in two places at once. Why let things be?”

“Even if the world doesn’t remember me, you will, and that’s enough for me. I shall stay by your side. I shall be your shadow”.

Marth’s heart pumped to her words. His eyes dilated and a faint blush started to grow. Seeing Marth’s fixation on her started to make her self-conscious of the particular wording she just used. In her panic, she went to correct herself, but Marth began talking. To her surprise, he started to smile.

“Kris, you’re…. Why, I wonder? ever since we met, I felt a special connection with you. I can’t help but to think that fate sent you to me…. Thank you, Kris. Please stay with me. You’re my other half, my one true friend…”

Kris was brought near to tears at this proposal. With a shaky breath, her lovely smile grew tenfold and nodded at him. She had to break eye contact and look at the ground once more. She slid her hand underneath her breastplate and grasped her breast in a physical attempt to ease her rapid heartbeat. She twisted her toe onto the ground as he saw stars twinkle in her eyes. He felt her burdens all melt away looking at her.

“And with how bashful you look right now, I know you were telling me the truth with what you said before”.

Kris let out an audible gasp and looked up at Marth. Her awe and shock swayed into a mellowed joy as she cocked her hip and rested her hand on it.

“So that was your gambit!… You sly cur”.

He shot her a side grin as he faced away and kept walking back to his army. His Royal Guard skipped along his side frequently trying to stand in his path which he just walked around her in active wide steps.

“W-Wait now, that smile - Sire! Sire! Was that a gambit, or were you serious there? Hey! Marth! Don’t just ignore me! Hehehe!”

Marth watched her wave her arms up and down as she was trying to get his attention. With all the pain in his body telling him to still mourn for the loss of his first love, it was Kris and only Kris that could make him smile like this.

_“She’s cute when she’s relaxed like this…”_


	2. Limerence

The Prince of Altea - the beloved Hero King - returned to his homeland and there was much celebrating. But for every joyous occasion were two grave events of the people’s suffering. Marth was a victor of not only the War of Heroes, but the War of Shadows as well - a conflict that concluded only one year before the Heroes war ravaged the world. Using the skills he accrued he mended the lands for the lords and commoners alike. To truly bring an era of peace Marth departed with his royal guard to the seven kingdoms that swore loyalty for his bravery to assist in building structures that could last beyond his rule.Sir Cain The Bull - Jr Commander of the Altea Knights, Marth’s sister Lady Elice, and Marth’s childhood friend and fellow comrade Merric the Wind Mage supervised their home of Altea and anxiously awaited for Marth to return.

It’s been six long months since the War of Heroes concluded. Marth with his Royal Guard traveled to the far reaches of his union of kingdoms to establish systems that would live beyond his fleeting lifetime. Every waking moment during these travels he thought of the future for the people. To sacrifice six months to ensure tomorrow, rather than letting the systems that stayed be, was nothing compared to six years of near-constant war he's fought for since he was fourteen. Yet finally, on this lonely night, he can close the story of his wars and open a new book in his life. Marth was coming home - in both body and mind this time.

Along the hilly roads of the small kingdom of Altea stretched vast areas of wood and rural land. Tis was rich for farming and for hunting alike. Within the depths of the wild overgrown countryside was a horse-drawn carriage peddling a typical track. Nothing grandiose, nothing amazing, inconspicuous at best. The wooden carriage glowed with enchanted firelight from within its walls as it rolled through the sleeping forest as it made its way to Altea Castle.

Rather than take a direct road to Altea Castle and make a show of the Prince’s great return - the Prince and his Royal Guard opted to take the longer safer road to enter the castle from the rear. Several other wagons were scheduled by Kris the Royal Guard herself to arrive home before their ride got there. All were decoys beyond the luggage they carried. For Marth; she took her best friend along the scenic route. Kris wasn't the best with directions, but she was confident with these roads. These woods were close to the humble farm she grew up on with her grandfather.

Yet neither of them could enjoy the sights of the wood in this cool misty early morning. Inside the cozy wooden carriage swung a single lantern light. The floor was piled in with books of trade and letters for many people who lived at the castle. Kris and her Prince came fresh off the docks and hopped into this box. They haven't eaten since they've been in port. Both were too cautious about each other's well-being to sleep. They settled on passing the time by simply reading.

Kris’s attire had not changed much since the war. Her silver breastplate was polished to a shine, her orange tunic was fitted with freshly new gold trimming. Her yet shoulder pads were replaced with decorative but still practical copies with hand-printed golden pattering. Her boots were refurbished and not outright replaced, with yet more gold trimming to match Marth’s old army uniform. Her silver gauntlets were now replaced with decorative bleached leather with all her fingers exposing. The leather protected her palms while keeping her fingertips free for gripping papers or a lance. Along her corset-like belt hung a blue cloth to provide some decency. Kris still favored shorts even in the colder clients - her legs were a point of pride for her. Though the nobles they met during their six months of travel questioned the amount of skin she showed - her tactical and physical feats were enough to dazzle and silence any who questioned her significance to the Prince.

Marth who sat across from her had his royal attire changed when he assessed to be the supreme leader of the contentment. Adorned with obsidian black armaments such as his breastplate, shoulder pads, and boots - each bit of steel was painted with gold with the same loving dedication and care as his Royal Guard’s armor. A deep-sea blue tunic he wore now seasoned in shining shimmering streams of gold.Adorning his neck and shoulders was the white fur trimming of his flowing cape, crimson red on the inside and a deep blue on the back. A shimmering red jewel clasped the magnificent cape to his body. The circlet adorning his head glittered in the swaying lantern light. When they stood together, Kris was the cream and orange color ring and firmly held Marth’s massive center stone. They dazzled any lord they met.

They sat opposite to one another within the swaying wagon. Kris had her eyes on the letters and organizing decrees while Marth was reading study material of commerce and trade - a field that Caeda would have filled for him. The rocking of the carriage was making Prince Marth’s vision blur. He attempted to power through the growing discomfort he was feeling. He shifted positions and now crossed his legs and leaned back in an effort to get his studying done before he returned home. Kris knew how to cope with these sensations and periodically took breaks to look out the small little window that was carved out the door. She gave a long sigh, growing bored by their traveling cage.

“You think we could have marched faster from the docks than by carriage?” Kris asked.

The bellyache was soothed by Marth’s chortle for at least a little while.

“Probably”, Marth said as he a smirk shot across his face. He sat up proper to directly face Kris. “But you did organize this elaborate schedule just to keep our travel a secret. To see it in motion is worth it. These long hours alone with you are the first peace I had in a while”.

The complement soothed Kris’s soul as she allowed herself to be lulled by his words. Yet now that they were making eye contact she was able to spot the fatigue in his eyes. Kris’s expression grew timidly sharp like a cardinal.Her eyes scanned over his body, including the codexes that stacked around him of all the new skills he had to learn because Caeda was no longer with them. Her growing worry was evident to Marth as well as.

“Is something the matter, Kris?” He asked as he slowly started to close his book.

“Are you alright, Sire?”Before Marth could respond, Kris lowered her head and fiddled with the letter she had in her grasp.

“I’m sorry that I have not been as helpful as I could have been”, Kris admitted. Marth remained silent as he sat up properly and fully closed his book. He knew it was best to hear her speak before rejecting such a notion. His silence encouraged her to continue.

“I’ve been only able to help you rebuild the military - and give advice on the farmlands for the commoners. I feel so outclassed by those… the others. The dukes, the royals that weren’t our allies in the war. Our skills only overlap and I couldn’t cover all these other royal duties you had to pick up”.

“Why are you apologizing for your greatest attributes?” Marth challanged. Kris regained eye contact with Marth and placed the letter on her bare thigh. Marth continued. “You cover what I knew, and then some with the common folk. You fit right in in the high life.”

The thought of that notion made her shift uncomfortably.

“That’s a lie”, Kris confessed once more. “When we were in - No - I shouldn’t name where because- ah…”. She shook her head and gathered the courage to relink eye contact with her lord.

“When we were traveling and stayed at one of the lord's abodes I went for a jog. When I returned the duke’s daughter whispered to her butler that I work like a horse yet smelled like one too. Could you believe that? I’ve been worried about how all the other lords we spoke to that weren’t our friends already thought of me, and their view of you because of me”.

Marth leaned back in his seat. “Ah, her…”

The surprise that Marth was able to identify who she was speaking put Kris on guard - yet her anxiety was dashed with his continued smile.

“She was like Yuliya, Kris”, Marth said, making reference to a young princess who fought alongside them in the war. “She knew little of who she ruled. You left an amazing impression on her after I was able to talk to her about her views and correct them”.

Kris put the letter she had on her lap to the side so she could grip the ends of her orange tunic as she spoke. Her thumbs rubbed the tips of her clothing subconsciously to the rhythm of the swaying lantern’s creaking.

“I…I did?”

Marth nodded his head in repose. “You made a good impression once a bit of time passes. You shouldn’t worry about the noble divide as long as you’re with me. I’ll do everything I can to keep the predigest from damaging you”.

The positive feelings that kept his queasiness at bay started to fade as he leaned further back in on his bench. Kris nodded to silently say thank you, which Marth returned the same with a half-baked smile. Once more Kris took note of Marth’s movements. Kris was grabbing the assortments of scrolls that she laid next to her back into their wooden carriers to make room on her bench for two.

“If I had to take a guess, Sire, you’re feeling nauseous?”

Marth was fully focused on his body, and mindlessly nodded his head in agreement. It was only after the fact that it dawned on him that she was dead right. “Wait, how did you know?”

“You stayed silent about your seasickness on our voyages too. I used to get them a lot when I was younger”. Kris said with a smile as she was cleaning up her side of the cluttered carriage. Marth looked away bashfully as he gripped the underside of his shaking bench.

“My grandfather would take me to market by strapping a wagon to the back of his horse and I would read on the trip there and back because he didn’t trust me to run trips for him”.

Kris patted the clear space on her side of the carriage.

“Try leaning on me. When It got too much I’d ask to hug my grandfather’s back and ride with him”.

Marth’s brow furrowed in worry for he was ashamed he was about to invade her personal space, yet her willingness to let him in did help him to both work up the courage. Marth pulled himself up by the grip he had on his bench and stood in the rocking carriage. Kris went to meet him halfway by squatting over her bench and reaching out to him to help him settle him down.

The wheels ran over a small log in the middle of the dirt road, causing the carriage to rock and sway. The stacked books fell over and the storage scrolls rolled about. Both Marth and Kris lost their footing in the turbulence. The normal light-footed prince was weighed down by his gut and fell over on top of his Royal Guard. Kris’s body acted upon their diligent training and grasped Marth’s chest as he fell to her. Kris’s legs locked into the squat position as her ankles swiveled with the moving floor. She could have caught him, but the second rocking caused by the back wheels of the wagon made Kris’s bench smack her backside. The strike made her body jump up and the two accidentally head-butted one another. Kris slipped out a cry of pain which made Marth’s battle battered body kick into autopilot, and not a moment too soon. Kris no longer was supporting them both and started to fall.

Marth yanked Kris to his body. The clang of their breastplates crashing sounded like swords clashing. His shoulder guard gained silver scars as it absorbed the damage for him when they made contact on the ground. Marth wrapped his arms around Kris's head to protect her as they fell. Kris was gripping his chest, ready to push him or lift him when the worse came next. Both aided gravity's efforts by letting their bodies be pummeled into the floor.

Both of the veterans stayed still - all their muscles tighten like a tapestry. Long seconds of silence past them. There was no ensuing battle, no fire spells exploding the ground around them, no war; It was just a log in the road and the mutterings of a cursing carriage driver. Laying on their sides in equal space to one another both Kris and Marth gathered their bearings. Both of them inspected one another out of raw habit. Marth patted Kris’s head to check for blood while his eyes scanned down her body. One hand cupped Kris’s face while the other now gripped onto her thigh. Kris was in the same and she tugged on Marth’s tunic to check for any crimson stains then reached up to his shoulder to inspect his chest. Kris seeing her reflection in Marth’s black chest plate and Marth recognizing that he was groping and staring right at Kris’s legs made them both realize what they were impulsively doing. Both pried themselves from searching for bleeding wounds and looked at one another while laying on the floor together. In their expressions was a mix of embarrassment and sorrow.

They both knew the type of grips they had on one another from their time fighting to protect their homeland and each other. Both of them allowed the noose of war to tighten ever so around their necks. Mistaking a bump in the road for an attack was a chilling reminder to both of them that no matter how much time will pass, the battles they fought will be with them till their deathbeds. Marth, who’s experienced two wars over Kris’s one, was rout with this reminder returning to him yet again. Out of habit he built from in the war he went to clench his fist to calm himself down from these damning thoughts. The flinch in Kris’s widening eyes and the squishiness Marth felt on his gloveless fingers made the poor man realize he was squeezing her thigh to relieve his stress. The rocking lantern continued to creak in laughter at him.

Marth pulled back his hand and held it up in the air. He made his gaze break from hers as he stared at the ground between them.

“Sorry”.

The bluntness of the apology - the act alone admitting his wrongdoing - made Kris let go of Marth and curl up to repress laughter. Marth firmly reached over to Kris’s bench to gain a sort of balance. He swallowed the spit in his throat.

“I…Sorry”, he whispered, more defeated than anything else. Kris’s patience forced Marth’s hand to elect himself to be the first to rise back to retreat to his half of the carriage. Marth refused to make eye contact with her as he actively pulled back his shaking hand. This bought a second for Kris to reflect and lightly tap where he held her. While Marth was filtering through memories of the war, the worry of being accepted by her, and the like - Kris’s eyes were simply aglow in accomplishment.

_“He likes my legs?”_ she thought to herself as the creaking lantern laughed some more.

Brimming with pride for her continued track record of 200 squats bi-daily while on their travels, she didn’t exactly rise fast enough to tell Marth that she was okay. From her peripheral view she saw Marth’s hand extending out to her. Out of reflex she grasped it and pulled herself up, yet while in the act she saw the full worry he had while watching her directly rise from the ground. Her prideful flames were softened - and now wanted only to comfort him.

Kris let Marth help as she pulled herself off the ground to sit back on her bench. Marth pulled his arm away as he averted eye contact. Kris held on his wrist before he could fully escape her grasp. Like a deer, Marth turned his attention to the disturbance and saw Kris still holding a smile to him. She bobbed her head over to the space next to her. Marth gave a quick glance at the spot next to her, which she approved with a nod of approval. Kris reached out with both hands to him to help guide him over to her side of the carriage. He sat a respectable distance away from her, causing her to silently laugh to herself. She encouraged him to lean on her by tugging on his armor which he eventually caved and leaned to her. As he went to rest on her shoulder, he trusted her hand to guide him. She held the side of his head and gently lowered him past her shoulder. He realized he missed his mark and went to pull up but the ever-present firmness of her hand made him tense up. Slowly she encouraged him to lay down and rest his head on her lap. Marth stayed wide-eyed staring at the other end of the carriage as Kris had her eyes close petting Marth’s head in wide slow strokes. She was a bit bashful speaking, but there was soul to it.

“My, uh, grandfather also told me to lay down to have the seasickness pass.” She said as she reached to his forehead and rubbed where they crashed into one another. “We just bumped heads, and not even the songbirds are singing good morning yet. I don’t mind if you use me to rest.”

Marth looked up at Kris for confirmation which she gave with a smile full of support and compassion. It took a second for him to accept her gesture and let his head relax on her lap. The silence was bliss for both of them.

Kris leaned into the wood of the carriage as she watched the sun creep up through the woods they were passing. She looked down at Marth who was curled up now in his own cape to escape the chilly morning’s air. His grip on his gut steadily relaxing as both the anxiety and queasiness was passing him by. A slight tinge of pain at the fleetingness of this moment made Kris’s heart pump. She had a gaze of fear in her eyes.

“I’m going to miss this”, She said as Marth turned his ear to her.

“Forgive me if this sounds selfish, but when we get back we’re not going to have moments like this anymore, will we? That was one of the few blessings of the war… all the time we got to spend together while traveling. These envoys feel like one last ’harra’ before those days are gone for good”.

Marth smiled as he rested his eyes. “You worry _too_ -“, he stopped only to correct himself. “Your worry is misplaced, Kris”.

Kris dragged her eyes down to look at him as she still continued to pet her sleeping Prince’s head.

“There’s going to be a lot of work, but I’ll make time for you”. He said.

“How can you be sure of that, Marth?” She asked.

“Because that’s what friends do”.

She paused in lightly petting his head to weigh those words. Kris then started to stroke his hair slowly to express the compassion she had.

“…Thank you”.

Marth spread his weight out more on the bench now that he was fully comfortable.

“Have trust in your plan you made with the carriages and get some sleep too. We’re still a long way from home. That’s an order”.

She went to protest to stay diligently awake for his protection, but the ending hook caught her in a snag. She huffed a smile before relaxing back in her little cove. “I better not wake up with my head in your lap now, otherwise I’m challenging you to a joust”.

“You know I can’t ride a horse too well”, Marth said with his eyes still closed.

Kris snarked back with her eyes now resting too. “That’s _exactly_ why”.

Marth let out a soft-winded laugh as Kris huffed in amusement. A simple jab strengthens a friendly bond, sometimes.

\- - - -

Three hours passed and the sun began to creep into the carriage. Both the Prince and his Guard were resting their eyes, neither able to fully fall asleep for they still stayed awake to ensure the other's wellbeing. The laughing of the creaking lantern died as the carriage stopped moving. They both know they were still in the countryside. 

Smiles fading, Kris went to lean to leer through a crack in the blinds that covered the door windows. Marth swiftly slid his hand across the metal of her breastplate to stop her. He pushed her out of the potential line of fire. Kris held her breath as she had her attention on Marth. His ears for now were both their eyes.

The warrior prince heard each other's hearts beating, the soft controlled breath's from both their lungs, and the songbirds outside singing their hellos. Marth then turned his head into the wood, rather than focus on just the doors. He heard profanities from the coachman as he was attempting to mush the lazy horses to keep moving. Marth huffed a smile as he sat up from his leg pillow to face Kris.

“The horses are just 'being horses'. What do you say we lighten their load and stretch our legs, Kris”?

Kris was looking past Marth and was analyzing the view from the window. Marth pivoted his head to listen, but he heard nothing out of the ordinary. “Do you see something?” He finally asked.

Kris shook her head no as she excused herself to the door. “I’m just looking for a landmark….”

Marth cocked an eyebrow as Kris opened the door for him. "I'm shocked you know what a landmark is." He snarked, with Kris only volleying back with a half-open eye stare of contempt. It quickly broke into a smile as she held out her hand to him and aided him out of the carriage.   
  
Kris left Marth's side and explored out to the thicket of trees that ran along the dirt road. Marth took a moment to salute the sun and roll his shoulders. _"The only thing comfortable about that wood bed was that she was there."_ He thought to himself. The continued thoughts about her legs made his heart kick in his chest. Marth rested his fingertips to steady himself, bewildered by the thrust he just felt his heart make. The carriage driver distracted Marth from deducing why that just happened to him.

"Apologies, your greatness. Can't exactly move if the horses don't want to - even for you." The servant said.

Marth dismissed the driver's words with a smiling wave of his hand. Marth walked to the horses and petted the closest one only when he was in the horse's view. "I'm not worthy of that 'greatness' if I'm unable to help you." Marth watched the hoofs of the horse he was petting to read their body language. Seeing its back leg slowly rise up then quickly paw at the ground made Marth slide back. "They seem _rather_ agitated." He added.

“Yes!!” Kris gasped in excitement. Marth then continued to slide his boots through the dirt. By the time he turned to face Kris, she was already bouncing on her toes in front of him. “I know this place! There’s somewhere I’ve been meaning to come back to. I would love it if you could come with me, Marth! This is such a perfect opportunity. We can get there on foot, it’s only a jaunt away!”

Marth had to step back with how animated Kris became. Marth glanced at the coachman who gave the prince a smiling wave off as the servant hopped down from the patty wagon to see what was making the horses act like jerks - which was odds are nothing given how horses are sly bastards.

Scoffing at Kris's eagerness, Marth couldn't help but smile at her. “I’d be happy to come! But let's try not to get a cramp now. We were curled up for hours in that coffin.”

“I’ll be careful, just follow my lead!” Kris beckoned as she turned and ran into the woods. Marth turned to the driver and waved to them signaling their departure before pivoting and running after Kris.

Marth followed Kris into the grassless thicket, full of tall timber trees that loomed high. The songbirds were startled as they heard two beings zoom through their woods and flew away. It was only just the two of them as they jogged through the dead leaf beds. Kris ran up to one of the trees and pointed up its tall trunk. “Do you see that X in the tree”? Kris said as Marth looked up and saw that a sword slash of an X was up rather high on one of the trees. “I made that when I was a kid”.

Marth was cupping his eyes so the sun didn’t blind him. “You could jump that high when you were a child?”

“Nooo!!” Kris protested while waving her fists. “The tree grew, Marth, that’s all.”

“Ohhhh….” Marth admired as he turned to face her, still holding a face full of joy.

Kris was near standing on her toes with how jovial she was jiving in place. “There’s someone I want you to meet. Come on! They’re not too far away now”. Kris once again turned on a dime and raced through the woods.

“ _It’d be certainly an early day for whomever we’re about to wake up. I hope they don’t mind our arrival.”_ Marth thought to himself as he watched Kris run away.

\- - - -

Kris finally slowed down as they were about to reach a wide-open pasture. Most of it was open ground without a single farm in sight, just a large grass plane, a rolling green sea. Yet nestled by the woods was a log cabin with a farm stretch as far as one man could manage, and a small dirt road led away and wrapped around the woods that assumably linked back up to the larger road and to the markets. They saw a lone man tending the fields early this morning. Marth walked up next to Kris as they were overlooking the rim of the property. Marth never saw such a marvel sparkle in her eyes before.

“This place hasn’t changed a bit… _Wow_ … You’d think they'd build at least one more house here, but no…”

Marth leaned over her to help guide her vision to the man plowing the field by pointing at the house. “Is that farmer the one we’re supposed to-?”

Kris waved her arms in protest to Marth as she cut him off. “Oh! No, that’s just a squatter. He practically owns this place now. We’re heading only a little further ahead. Come on!” Kris beckoned him to follow her as she ran down the dirt road and ran across the farm field. Marth however called out to her as he only made it to the road.

“Wait, we can’t cut across private property. You said he owns this land!”, Marth protested. Kris turned around and waved him off.

“We do this all the time here, come on!!” Kris shouted as she hopped in place before joting across the field while Marth sighed as he scratched the back of his head.

The old farmhand, roughly in his 30s, hoed the fields. He heard the rattling of a sword of yet another chipper adventurer cutting through his property. He looked up and saw the happy Kris wave at him before she jogged merrily on her way. His eyes lingered on her shiny gear. Yet when Marth sheepishly rushed after Kris while giving his own silent hello to the farmer was when the farmer just stared at them. The farmhand watched them jog across the grass swaying field and over to the rim of the forest by the largest oak tree. The poor farmer scratched his head as he looked around more.

“ _Is another bloke poundin’ a pair of coconuts gonna to run along after ‘em next?”_ The farmhand thought to himself.

The duo ran up the hill side of the large and unused property. Kris’s joyful bounces were slowly growing into a more focused sprint as they reached closer to their destination. Marth was able to catch up with her when she stopped dead at the foot of the tree and was looking at the ground. She was petrified. He stood next to her, waiting. He waved his sword hand across her face. She was staring wide-eyed at the ground. Marth then squatted down so she could see him in her field of vision.

“Is everything okay?”, he asked with concern. Kris seemed to ignore him and looked around the area with her heart thumping underneath her breastplate. Marth stood up and waited for her to say something.

“Did I bury- this should be the spot. Where is he?” Kris finally announced with a sweat drop of anxiety rolling down her forehead. Marth grasped her shoulder to steady herself and pull her back before she started to kneel and crawl around the tree.

“Burry? What- Who are we meeting, Kris?” Marth questioned. Kris stood up straight and swiveled to him and lightly pinched on the front of his tunic.

“I wanted you to meet my grandfather, Marth”, Kris confessed as she was unknowingly fighting back tears. Marth’s eyes flinched as he pulled back his hand. Marth then looked over his shoulder and back at the lone log cabin behind them in the green sea of grass.

_“So that’s why you said they were a squatter - you used to live here”,_ Marth thought to himself. He looked back at Kris who was now running circles around the tree.

“There was a big tombstone here!” Kris declared as she was shuffling back and forth in the dirt. “So big, you couldn’t just move it. I carved it myself. It was as heavy as two oxen and as long as a javelin”. She started to tug at her own hair. “Noooo No no, don’t tell me I forgot where I buried my own grandfather!! No I couldn’t! I’m not _this_ bad!”. Kris gasped as she turned back to Marth and started to point as she spoke. “You - wait here. I think it’s not too far away. Don’t move!” Kris then swung her weight around and sprinted into the thicket and vanished into the trees. The howling winds of the open planes were kicking up Marth’s cape and made its blue-colored fabric shimmer in the morning sun. After promptly waiting only half a minute for her return, Marth pivoted and walked back to the house they just passed.

Marth approached the farmer who was taking care of his crop. The log cabin had a fenced area around the relatively small plot of land, enough to feed one house and a bit of extra to sell on the market.The fence was made out of wood and stone which seemed to match well with the sturdy look of the old log cabin behind the farmer. The farmhand stood up straight as the Prince was standing outside of his garden gate.

“Greetings” Marth introduced with a wave and smile. “May I ask you a question, stranger.”?

“Shove off, ya prick”. The farmhand said as he pulled away from his heavy work and staggered to his feet. Each P the man spat spit from the side of his lips. “Pompous pricks paradin’ ‘cross ‘me property. Don’t think I didn’t up and hear ya two twats buckerin’ ‘bout in the woods. Yeah, bet ya _knocked_ her up too - that why ya think ya got the big nuts to come prowlin’ ‘bout here. Who gives ya the right to break the law? Just ‘cause ya dress up like a prince don’t mean ya are one”.

Marth did not break his welcoming composure as the farmer continued to slow slurs at him. “I’m sorry for the treasonous act. Is there any way I could compensate you so that we can cooperate?”

“Com-PEN- _station?_ ”, the farmhand asked as he folded his arms and puffed out his chest. The Farmer eyeballed the young man from head to high waste due to the fence in-between them. “Reckon if ya give me yer little tiara, black armor, an’ fancy blue cape with the pretty ol’ red button ya got on, then I’d give you me ear. No promises that’d it’d give ya me lips though after”.

The farmhand was scoffing to himself - thinking that’d be a price too high for this rando’ to pay upfront. Yet his mocking attitude fell flat when Marth began unbuttoning the ruby brooch that helped hold the cape to his tunic. He used the neatly folded cape as a pillow to place all his upper body armor upon. He then handed off the cape to the farmhand. The old gizzard was just staring wide-eyed at this welldressed jester.

“Ya be serious?” He questioned, which Marth nodded yes. The farmer backed away for a second and washed his hands off clean in his watering bucket then returned to retrieve Marth’s offer. As Marth went to take off his circlet next from his hand, the prince was watching how the farmhand was inspecting the armaments he gifted them. The farmhand furrowed his brow, spotting a slight dink in the painted decorations of his shoulder pad - the one Marth fell on inside the carriage. The farmhand not only was looking at the decorations, but most noteworthy to Marth, went to also inspect the less glamorous side and test how sturdy were the straps. Marth's smile grew more confident as he rested his circlet and hands on the fence’s railing.

“Are you a merchant in textiles - or often work with smiths?”, Marth questioned. The jab made the farmhand perk his head up at Marth. He narrowed his eyes at the prince - staggered by his well-placed blow.

“Reckon I be, aye. Smith’s sellin’ hands that is.” The trader said as he placed the gear gently on the floor. He swiped Marth’s circlet from the fence and held it to the sun to inspect it. “Don’t make stuff me’self but I got an eye for ‘em. Used to have a customer who’d pay top ‘G for me wears who lived here”, he rambled as he bit the corner of the circlet and pulled back realizing it was solid gold.

“Who was that, If you don’t mind me asking?" Marth encouraged them to keep talking.

“Went by the name of Sir MacLear. If ya were lookin’ for him though he’s up and dead. He gave me a tip to keep an eye on this place cause it’d be vacant eventually. Glad I took the ol’ fart by his word”.

“I believe he was the man I was looking for, thank you. Do you still do your trading or have you chosen farming to maintain his stead?”, Marth questioned. The trader waved off Marth as he placed the tiara circlet on the pile of greed he accrued.

“Nah, still do sellin’ - just thing’s been hectic with the mergin’. Can’t read the common good prices gonna swing with all these nations commin’ together under Altea now. Just a year ago, me mates didn’t know whether to sell to Kingdom of Archanea or to the kingdom we all piss on. Feel sorry for the bastards who lost their life earnin’s when Marth up and shoved Hardin out of power, Hah!” Marth still showed a smile, but he had to hold it up more by himself than normal. The trader swiped his nose as he continued talking. “Aye, yer rich. Which way ya think the winds be blowin’?”

Marth clasped his hands together as he spoke. “Well, the need for raw materials is certainly on the rise."

“Got that right”. The smith seller was swift to take Marth's bait for continued conversation. “Made a fortune diggin’ porcelain by the rivers at Port Warren.”

Marth jerked back in astonishment. “Porcelain!? In the _river beds_ that flow to Port Warren? Are you sure? Why are you even still here on a farmstead if you found a riverbed full of _porcelain clay?_ ”

“I be savin’ that’s why!”, The merchant proclaimed proudly. “Got some checks on the rises on Altea. Sold me house cause I bet it all on Marth winning the war. I be holding’ the line to get a bit more dough though!!! It’d be enough to turn this hut into a villa. Gonna buy me’self a ticket to yer club - a noble! An’ as for the river, Archanea always just focused on the port for money. Ain’t the most pure porcelain that flows in those rivers granted - but the clay be the second highest quality ya can find - right under pure porcelain that is”.

Marth rubbed his chin. “I’ll have to keep that in mind”.

“Hey”, the trader beckoned with a smirk. “If yerreally gonna trust the words of some hovel suckin’ bloke on their word an’ gonna dig up that place up ya should least give me a ol’ tip. Maybe cut of the profit?”

The trader said it out of jest, but nearly jumped back when Marth nodded his head in agreement and rested his fingerless gloved hand on his chest. “I think we can get that arranged. Maybe you can look over the excavation too? You would be compensated of course. My elders knew Sir MacLeer well - so as the saying goes; a friend of his is a friend of mine. What’s your name?”, Marth asked as he held out his hand to him. The Trader blinked twice before breaking into a full smile.

“An’ here I didn’t want to wake up dis morrnin’, kid”. He reached out and his buddy hands shook Marth- both had harden grips from their tough working professions.

“Names Dennis, Dennis Monty Grail. What’s yer name, blue buddy?”

Marth chuckled hearing the spin of ‘blue blood’ being used lovingly for a change - that or simply a reference to his appearance and hair.

“I’m M-“

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?”

Both men turned and saw Kris yelling from the hilltop. They then both blinked, and then saw she was already halfway across the open plains.

“UNHAND HIM!”

Marth turned, pulling his hand away but held it out still to Dennis to calm him down.

“It’s okay” Marth comforted the startled man.

Marth then held his hand out to the side. Kris was hopping the fence. Marth was able to just able to snag the strap of her brest plate and yanked her back to his side of the fence. He held onto her armor like an owner would their dog's leash. Kris was already unfiltered with frustration at not being able to find MacLear’s grave and this was pushing her over the edge. She had half a mind to bark at Prince Marth first.

“Why did you up and give him your armor!?”

Marth turned to her with a smile. “I can explain”. But before he could, Dennis cut in with a sudden epiphany. Seeing her speed triggered several memories.

“ _Wait a second._ Aren’t cha’ MacLear’s kid? The wee tike who rode in a wagon hidden with a fort made out of books?”

Kris seemed to calm down when she heard her grandfather’s name. She was now only panting. “You knew us?”

Dennis laughed as he folded his arms. “Yeah, bet ya don’t remember me though. Ya were just a babe back then. Ya old man told me to keep an’ eye on dis place incase anything’ happened to him - but gave me orders not to interfere unless ya really needed it. Life or death.”

Kris felt a rock sink to the bottom of her gut as she was looking through Dennis and at her old log cabin. “You’re telling me you knew my cabin caught on fire and you didn’t help at all? Those logs were heavy!!”

Dennis shrugged. “Yer Gramps said ‘She’ll become the greatest knight if ya just leave her be! For a true knight should be prepared for anythin'”.

Kris’s steam was built up too much, she turned away and screamed at the sky. “ That….JERK!!!”

Marth couldn’t help but laugh while grinning ear to ear. Kris spun on her heel and stomped it in the ground at Marth. “What’s so funny!?” She snarled.

“Sorry." He let slip out of his smiling lips.

Kris huffed as she held her head. “You drive me crazy sometimes”.

The gears in Dennis’ head started to turn more and more though as they had their moment. “What are ya doin’ here though, Kris? Thought ya made yer way up to Altea Cas-“.

Dennis’ eyes naturally panned to the second person he first spoke to, the star and savior himself, the Hero King. Dennis, like many of the commoners who've lived through the War of Shadows and Heroes, were able to see the Prince themselves twice. Dennis first saw Marth back when he was but a boy, looking down at his people as they welcomed the prince home. The roaring crowds cheered their thanks to the boy prince for saving them from enemy armies that aimed for the total destruction of Altea, along with the shapeshifting dragon menace that ate all living things that moved. The second time Dennis saw Marth was when the Prince did this same feat again only one year ago during the War of Heroes, and once more comforted his people. The third time was right now.

Marth held the same smile he had back then but with warmth - with a personal connection. Dennis' skin turned white as a goat's fur and his face flushed up. The contrast was as striking as a rose left in the snow. Marth continued to speak after loaning a bit of time to let Dennis puzzle everything together. “We were looking for Sir MacLear’s grave because Kris wanted me to meet her grandfather. Do you know where he now sleeps, friend?”

Dennis’ eyes dilated. They then looked over at Kris. The sudden timidness made Kris uneasy. The merchant was now trying to avoid all eye contact. As he scanned the sky he took a deep breath then clenched his teeth when he finally worked up the courage to talk to Kris.

“…So we’ve been havin’ a bear problem”.

The damn on Kris’s heart broke as tears started to appear and stream down her face.

**_“BeArS aTe My_ ** **_GrAnDfAtHeR_ ** **_!? ”_ ** ****

Marth staggered back at her volume. His shock was swapped with worry seeing Kris breaking at the news. He walked up right next to her and helped her stand up straight and whipped away her tears with his thumb. Dennis waved his arms in front of himself in protest.

“Nah! We-We were able to save 'em, for the most part. Lost a finger. 'Could have done a better job at the balmin’ Kris, just sayin’, sweetheart”.

Kris cringed as she held herself while Marth was rubbing her back. Kris was taking deep breaths as Dennis turned and pointed to a simple wooden cross stabbed in the ground that was surrounded by a small flower bed.

“We were able to get him a box and put him in here right in that ol’ garden I made for him. All that we got is there, don’t ya fret, sweetheart”.

Kris huffed from her nose as she looked away from Dennis. The name calling was making her grow more uncomfortable. Marth attempted to calm her down by continuously rubbing her back. Dennis went to pick up Marth’s presents and lifted them up.

“Ya two can help yer’selfs to whatever be in me house. Meanwhile, I be thinkin’ I gonna pawn dis off an’ get me some fancy new duds for our next meetin’ sire. Ya two have a nice day!” While holding the offering Dennis did a bow then ran off to mount his horse to head to the market.

Marth chuckled at his hastiness and waved him off.“Naga’s speed, Dennis!” Marth’s full attention went back to Kris who was still huffing a storm. He was rubbing the back of her neck with his thumb and stroking her head just as she did with him before. “See? He’s still here. Everything’s okay.”

Kris slowly came to terms and agreed with Marth by nodding her head. She whipped her face clean of tears. “You do not speak to anyone that you saw me cry”. Marth agreed and was charmed by her stubbornness.

“Thank you for being open with me”. Marth said in an effort to mellow her down more. Yet Kris’s heavy exhale and blooming blush just showed he was making her more unease. “Do you feel ready to take me to him?” Marth asked as he pulled his hand away from her.

Kris watched Marth’s hair sway gently in the breeze. The still air was calming her down. Silently she nodded her head yes to him then went to hop the fence. Marth watched her walk through the garden and stand at the foot of the grave. Marth opted to rather walk around to the gate of the fence to give Kris a few moments alone. Kris was watched from the corner of her eye Marth taking the long road around to reach her - the time to reflect did in fact clear her head. Before Marth could reach her Kris left the grave and met Marth half way in the well loved garden. She stood in front of him folding her arms and looking down to conjure the right words to say. Marth stood waiting for Kris, for she was the roadblock to her grandfather.

“Is there something that needs to be done before we meet him? A ritual of some kind, Kris?”, he questioned, but Kris shook her head no in response. Swallowing her nervesand still holding herself she met her lord’s gaze.

“What was it like when you lost your home that night?”

Marth’s sword hand flexed in memory, his hand balled into a fist, and glazed over his eyes was fire that sucked the smile from his face. Kris pivoted north to face the open green pastures and pointed where the tall treeless hills blocked the horizon. She pointed in the way of Altea Castle.

“I remember that night, the sky was orange with flame. I was too naive to get what that meant until later- and even then my grandfather ordered me to stay inside”.

Marth looked at the earth beneath them, his only peace right now being was knowing no blood was spilled on this soil. “When I was young our allies betrayed us and invaded - just like how Hardin betrayed us, Kris. I was awoken from my bed chambers by pounding, with knights attempting to apprehend me. That knight was when I killed my first man. I fought my way though with only Cain, Jagen, Abel, Draug and the others. I watched my home disappear as was sailed over the horizon. We sailed off to Talys and hid in Caeda’s island country”.

Kris lowered her hand finally as she folded her arms once again, looking at the pure ground as well. “It rained that next day - the heavens cried for you”.

Marth pulled himself out of his rut and found his eyes magnetized to Kris as she recalled her fated days. “That night and the day following was full of so much screaming. My grandfather told me to stay in the cellar. He got sick that night from helping people escape or hide, and he got me sick too”. Her head started to sag down. “He took care of me but…There was no one to take care of him. I woke up to him dead, and I had to be by myself from that point on”.

“ _Kris_ …” Marth whispered as his right sword hand tensed up. He fought the active urge to clench it, to cling onto the regret of not knowing her back then. He regretted not being strong enough to stop that first invasion, just as how he regretted not being fast enough to save Caeda.

“That’s why I worked so hard, Marth. Not just because my grandfather told me to, but because you gave me a home. I don’t remember what happened too or who even was my mother and father. My only family has been my grandfather…” Kris said as she was lowering her vails and was able to smile again “…And _you_ ”.

Marth’s sword hand shivered as a countering energy coursed through his veins. Rather than react in pain, a new memory was made that gave him peace. His sword hand was able to free itself from its fist in record time as he smiled back at her. A thumping grew louder in his chest - this time one he noticed. He cupped his heart and took in a deep breath. The smell of the roses and freshwater was enough to clear his head from his rushing thoughts and look back over the hill that blocked Altea Castel from view.

“This is why I fought … for someone like you… despite it all that was lost, nothing can take this away”. Kris joined Marth in watching the grass wave and the wind kiss their ears in its enchanting whistle.

Marth’s relaxed hand felt something curl around his fingers. Looking down, he saw Kris grabbing his hand and tugging him to the grave. She held a burning smile as she kept eye contact with him. “I’m feeling better now because of that. Thank you. Come on, let me introduce you two.”

Marth agreed by nodding at her back. His hand stayed outreached to continue to hold her fingertips as he went to follow her wake, yet she ran ahead. Their fingertips brushed past one another as her hand escaped his grasp. Another thunderous thump shook Marth’s ribcage. He staggered. He looked wide-eyed as the pounding grew louder. His brow furrowed in confusion as he attempted to steady his shaking breathing.

_"This pain isn't the normal type I feel."_ Marth thought, insightful of the reactions his body makes. " _I don't think it came about when speaking about the past - yet - that felt familiar... What caused that in me?"_

"A Night Terror?" Kris asked. She couldn't read his thoughts, but she was reading his body language.  
  
Marth looked up at Kris who was kneeling in the small garden looking back up to her heavily breathing prince. Her expression was neutral as Marth was fixed to just scorn. Yet, her neutrality buckled into embarrassment seeing that Marth wasn't able to figure out a responce. "I'm sorry I asked about that night." She said in a decaying whisper.

Marth's body moved by itself as he walked her. "Don't be". He softly said. The pounding in his chest was still beating strong when he came to her, but his trials made him have the confidence to hold a smile. "You're my confidant, we share all our woes. I think it _was_ just a Night Terror recalling that day again."

Marth assumed a more military approach and stood by with both hands clasped behind his back while Kris continued to kneel. Kris looked up at Marth and was comforted by his continued gentle smile. Her own joy to have her lord by her side started to creep back on her face. With said energy renewed, she sucked in her gut before she spoke to the grave. She was going to need that power boost.

“Hello grandfather, It’s been - _I’m sorry_ for not coming back when I said I would have. I think it’s been about…” Kris turned her head to Marth. “Two years? Since I became a knight?” Marth encouraged her by responding to her question with a nod of approval. Kris offered only a small nod back as her shoulders curled up into her body. Her lungs gasped for air as she faced back the grave. “Two …and a half years since I became a Knight of Altea. I-I got to meet your friend and my superior Sir Jagen - he was the Senior Commander of the Altean Knights. He was very strict… not as strict as you though I assure you”. Marth composure took a sucker punch of a dent there as he was able to get a clear image of who Sir MacLear was with the comparison to Sir Jagen now drawn.

Kris continued with a nervous smile: “I would have came back as soon as I was knighted but then there was an assassination attempt on the prince- and then I became a royal guard.” Kris stopped plucking at the grass and nervously twittered her hands together as she couldn’t even look the dead knight at the ground which he slept.

“So I had to spend a year learning how to do my new job right…. Then a war happened - and at the end we fought a dragon- that took a year. Then right after we needed to travel around the world - and - I only just got home now. A-And to be honest I almost forgot to come back, but it was for a good reason. I’ve been really busy. I think you would forgive me this time given those circumstances. Right?”Kris took a very large exhale as her arms were trembling, yet the huge goofy smile across her face which raised Marth’s intrigue.

“And assuming you would have still tried to beat me with the stick-“. Hearing that his expectations were surpassed of MacLear’s image, Marth’s iron-clad composure fully filtered as he repressed his scoff. Kris looked back at Marth regenerating his composure with a teeth-showing grin. She herself was able to take a breath that was stable and calm for once. “-…I brought back someone to meet you”.

Kris looked over at Marth who, once he was able to relax, walked over to stand by her side. He relaxed his stance and held his palms together just above his belly button. “I brought Prince Marth of Altea with me today, grandfather. He is the man I became a Royal Guard for, and I am proud to call a friend. I hope that when we do meet one day I get to tell you what I’ve seen. I miss you”. Kris held her hands together in a prayer looking fully in peace. Marth once again felt a thumping his chest seeing her pray surrounded by flowers. He took this pain in his chest as a calling, rather than a warning, and went to kneel down by Kris’s side. Kris dropped her prayer and was visibly shaken that Marth was right beside her.

“Sir MacLear, I must have been only an infant when you first met me before you left the castle. I wish I could have met you when I knew a language that you understood. Thankfully can at least give you my words now. It’s because of your diligence, loyalty, and-“, Marth paused as he nodded to Kris. “-questionable actions -”. Kris covered her mouth and giggled in glee as Marth continued on, “- that allowed both of us to meet. For that I must thank you personally. I selfishly ask if you could still stand by my father and my mother’s side as I continue to lead Altea and the world to a brighter future. Watch over us still, thank you”.

Kris was gripping where the curve of her breastplate she sighed in her simple bliss. His words to her flowed like a river and cleans her soul. Yet to her shock, Marth continued to speak on in that authoritative flowing tone; “I also have a question for you, but since you are unable to speak - I will ask your granddaughter instead”. Marth turned only his head to her, while his body remained facing MacLear. “Do you think he would want to lay here in the land that he raised you, or would he want to be moved to our cemetery back at the castle, where he can lay with the other warriors and heroes from our history? I would like him buried right next to my ancestor, King Anri.”

As quietly as an April shower, droplets started to flow down onto the grave of MacLear. Kris attempted to steady herself by exhaling, but the additional air and wind only made the storm clouds grow. Kris eyes sparkled like the sea - and her tears were as salty as it too. She sucked in the ugly snot that wanted to shoot out. Her teeth buckled and nearly broke underneath her strength. Nodding her head yes to the contract, her body broken down due to the stress. She crumpled over, sobbing, screaming, and trusted Marth to catch her. He was there and pulled her right into his chest. Kris clung onto Marths tunic as she sniffled and wept. Marth held her tight with his biceps acting as guardrails to keep her on his steady path. He clasped the back of her head and used all the strength he could to hold onto her as she steadily calmed down.

“Thank you…for everything you sacrificed for me… This is the least I can do to repay you…I’m truly unworthy”.

He felt his heartbeat pound again, and it only grew in severity as Kris gravitated to its steady consistent rhythm. She rubbed her head on his chest like a cat. Before in the carriage, there was still his armor that walled his touch of her to some extent but now he felt as exposed as her legs. He couldn’t steady his breath and allowed him to lower his weight on top of her. He held her sides and shoved his face into her ponytail. The pounding in his chest wouldn't stop beating for her.

“ _Why am I hurting differently than before? This isn’t a scar from the war… Why can't I move?”_

_. . ._

. . .

Marth and Kris were slowly walking back to where the carriage was last at, traveling side by side across the wide-open plains to reach the forest they had to cut through. Kris was focused on herself, clasping her hands as she kept her eyes closed, taking in one last bit of her childhood home before she would say goodbye to it for good. Yet rather than taking in the sounds or the wonderful nature, Marth’s eyes were fixated on her. His hands were stiff as they swayed unevenly. He was fighting the urge to clasp his hand over his heart again or attempt to control his breathing in case it alerted Kris. Yet his eyes panned around for some sort of solution. He at least fixated on her hands. Swallowing the spit that was generating in his mouth he let out a low moan.

“Kris, uh…” Kris shifted her whole attention onto Marth as he looked away from her. He was a little slower with his words now than he was before.

“I’ve… thought about the odd things I’ve asked for you during our time together, and after… comparing them, I don’t think this one will be as bad as the others…”

As Marth was gathering his thoughts, Kris stopped walking and folded her arms. She tilted her head in thought. “Odd orders? What do you- Ah”. She snapped her fingers. “Like when you asked me to watch over you when you bathed and I said no?”

The context that Kris just brought up made many different images both made from reality to fiction race past Marth’s vision. She saw how uncomfortable he looked from his bugged out eyes. With a little gasp she took a step back and cupped her cheek. “I’m sorry. I suppose you didn’t want to think about that… But, please do not hesitate, Sire. What is it that you need?”

Marth dragged his eyes in an attempt to meet hers, but only managed to pull his eyes up to look at her shorts. Gravity then 'made' his eyes pan down the inside of her shorts, down the contour of her thighs twice over, slide down her boots, then snake away to the ground. He gulped. “May you…. Hold my hand till we get back to the carriage?”

He turned his head away. “I’m sorry for the strange-“ he stopped himself as he felt Kris digging her nails through his clenched fist and holding his hand properly. He turned to her to see why she was so eager to agree and saw her in a state of worry.

“I’m still sorry I asked about that night. I never did for a reason. I knew it’d make you sad like this.” Kris’s head started to tilt down in shame. Marth’s heart skipped a beat as he reached out with his other hand and rested his knuckle under her chin. He hastily raised it.

“Don’t-“! He stopped himself as he saw the surprise in Kris’s gasping mouth. His hand moved far too quickly so he pulled it back slowly to not alarm her. She looked up at him with her wide blue eyes. He let out a huff and forced on a smile.

“Don’t be _sorry_ …Kris…Please.”

She stayed staring at him, tilting her head to read his expression, before she accepted how he felt was the genuine article. She gave him a stunning smile then fixed her grip on Marth’s hand before walking back to the carriage. Marth knew from observation that she would match his walking speed, so he went as slow as possible. The songbirds sang, but all Marth could hear was the pounding of his heart.

_“Is she …causing this pain…like... Caeda did before?”_

The panic started to settle in when he finally bridged the comparisons. He was feeling the same butterflies he had when he started to fall in love with Caeda.

_"Oh, oh no. Oh no I-I can't like Kris. Not in this way. Not like how I felt with Caeda. No. I can't do this to her."_

He needed to test if she’d accept him by pushing a hairpin further. He attempted to interweave his fingers with hers to lock their hands together. Yet when he tried to do so, she pulled her hand away and no longer held his hand. Marth glanced away ashamed.

_“We can’t-I can’t think of love with her, because of our different class - Not even that! I can't drag her apart from what she loves to be. We have our roles, we can't stray from them! I need to stop thinking this way. She did the right thing in pulling away”._

Kris was only changing positions. She slid her arm to lock up with his arm to better support him and to clasp his one hand with her two. She rested her head on Marth’s forearm as she attempted to calm him down by rubbing down his solid rock-hard fist. Marth squinted his eyes shut as the pounding of his heart was beating his eardrums.

_“Oh no…Kris… I can’t be thinking this way about you….”_

His hand reached for both of her own and squeezed them. Even though the pain he was putting her in, Kris did not remove herself from his side. She'd never let go of his hand.

_“What am I going to do? Maybe this feeling will pass…in due time. We were both… emotional back there… This will pass….. It must”._


	3. Home Sweet Home

The swaying lantern in their carriage continued to laugh at Marth. The castle started to roll into view. Its grand white towers penetrated the skylines, yet Marth’s eyes were not on the windows. He remained hunched overthinking to himself; _“I’m a craven. I’m a lying, despicable, craven.”_

“We’ll be arriving soon, just hang on for a little while longer, Sire”.

Kris and Marth were once more sitting on opposite sides of the carriage. Marth was bent over with one hand reaching out to Kris. His royal guard continuously rubbed and massaged his hand for him as Marth shamefully appreciated her heavy grip. Marth continued to curse himself.

 _“As soon as she pulls away I can’t allow myself to hold her hand for a week - because I am a craven”._ His nails tugged into his trousers, which Kris took note of.

“Are you sure this is helping you?” She questioned.

“Yes”. Marth was curt and to the point. His grip on his leg grew ever tighter as he balled up the fabric in his fist. Kris nodded her head to him and continued to stroke his other hand. The wheels bounced along when the dirt road now glided along the stone path that led into the back of the castle.Kris lowered her master’s palm and placed it on his free knee.

“Let me get the letters. Don’t worry about your supplies - other knights can handle your books? Just hang on, Marth”. Kris said as she placed her hand on his shoulder. Marth nodded his head as he let out a groan from his chest, using both hands to ball up his clothing. He was taking long, heavy breaths as he was collecting his nerves and wiping the sweat from his palms. Through the canopy of his oily bangs he could see Kris’s legs shuffle about on her bench as she piled the letters on a corner of her cove. The morning sun at this hour practically put a spotlight on her shiny knees and sweat sleek thighs. Marth dragged his eyes over her legs as he gulped the rock in his mouth.

 _“We’re almost there”._ He repeated as he was steadying himself.

“Oh…shoot.” Kris mumbled.

From Marth’s point of view, a few tens of letters fell onto the floor around his feet. Normally he would help pick them up, but he was spending all his energy in controlling himself. This inaction then forced Kris on all fours on the bottom of the carriage as she was plucking the letters that were jostled around from their bumpy overnight cart ride. Marth fixated on the back of her head and at her blue messy ponytail. His eyes then trailed down her spine and down to her tail bone. His eyes dilated as he allowed himself to stare at her bouncing backside before he violently squinted them shut and took a nervous, loud, and heavy exhale from his nostrils.

 _“This will pass. It must pass”._ His heel bounced on the ground.

Kris was looking at Marth with worry as she was hastily piling the letters and wrapped them up in a spare twine. She couldn’t see his face due to his sapphire blue hair draping down the sides of his face.

“Marth, let me see you”. Kris said as she placed the bundled-up letters on the side. She stayed on her knees and held his cheeks. Marth’s watery blue eyes were jittery when they opened to meet his concerned Kris. “By Naga’s might, you’re red’er then Cain!”

“I-I-I’m fine.” Marth - the tomato red face lire - stuttered out. Kris held a scorn. She was about to jump out of the carriage to make them stop so she could carry Marth the rest of the way to the castle. Yet as luck would have it, the carriage stopped at the undocking stables. They both looked up at the creaking lantern that stopped laughing at them. Marth and Kris looked at both doors that were to the left and right of them and recognized the landscape and to their west were the wide stone archways that lead to the castle's internal stables.

 _“Oh, we’re here!”_ They both thought at once, for different reasons - but for equal joy.

The lantern started to shriek and holler as their wagon was suddenly tackled from the side by a heavy force that attacked from the west. A figure clouded one of the carriage windows as this person rattled and attempted to pry on the door. Marth and Kris, stunned that no knight standing by was protecting their ride, both slid to the east side of their carriage. The attacker banged on the locked door. Kris went to draw her sword, but Marth gripped her by her wrist as she was about to reach for the handle. He pulled her back as he managed to get the east door to the carriage open and they both slipped out on the safe side of their ride. They hid behind the wood. As Kris drew her blade clenching her teeth in rage Marth looked up to where their carriage rider was sitting to check on his health. To his puzzlement, the rider was still there and just staring blankly at this bull-like attacker.

“ _Why isn’t he doing anything”?_ Marth gasped in thought.

“OPEN THE DOOR!!” shouted the man who was attempting to break into their wagon. Both Marth and Kris stared blankly forward at the shout of the bull that charged them, then both looked at one another with tired unpleasant looks. In unison, both sighed and thought the same singular word.

_“Cain.”_

The Altean Knight, Sir Cain was beside himself. Chugging along on anxiety, drowsiness, pent-up rage, and impatience, he pulled himself back from the door and looked at the stage coachman - who had god levels of tolerance. The standard knights who guarded the entrance all stood on standby as they uncomfortably watch Cain’s episodes turn into full movies over these past long hours.

“WHY’S THIS ONE LOCKED?!” Cain pointed at the carriage as he directed his rage now at the driver. “IS THIS ONE EMPTY LIKE THE OTHERS!?”

Marth and Kris were standing up and were about to walk around their protection to attempt to calm The Bull - but the callout of all the decoy rides Kris sent in their stead made her stagger. Suddenly, a thought struck across her mind as she became alert of the sensation of danger, a memory from hours before suddenly forming new clarity within her. _"My selfish want to see my grandfather made Cain this mad. I didn't even walk with Marth when we were going through those woods. What if someone attacked us when I was heading to that log cabin? I failed at being his guard then. I ruined my honor as a knight."_

The impulsive thought ruined her concentration. She rarely breaks composure, but she hasn't even thought of her grandfather in over two years. Her love for family was clashing with her diligent knightly training Cain and her grandfather instilled in her. All these thoughts and more were hitting her within roughly a second. Her heart was twisting in pain. 

Marth heard that Kris ceased copying his movements at her first misstep and glanced behind him to check on her. She was frozen just as she was when first looking for her grandfather's grave. In half a second Marth was already able to deduce partially why she was like this.

 _"She's self-conscious because of how Cain's reacting."_ He thought has his brow flexed.

Emotions thrown into disarray, Marth's efforts to help ease Kris's thoughts became laced with his growing desire, his hand latching to her hand and giving it an intimate squeeze, gesturing her to gaze at him, locking into her azure eyes. He did this all while holding a smile. Said smile grew as Marth watch her face burst in blush and her eyes widen with fire in them. He relaxed the intensity in his stare as he gave her a more relaxed aura to lean on. _"Good, that helped. I think...?"_

Kris's mind was going as ape as Cain was on the carriage. _"MArTH LIKED IT W-WHEN I WAS RELAXED ON THE JOB?! HE LIKED IT WHEN I DIDN'T THINK!!?!"_ She thought to herself. She then saw Marth smile as if he was mind reading her. _"NAGA, HE LIKED ME JUST BEIN' ME!!!"_

She was now as red as Marth was during the ride. Her hand Marth was holding onto was shaking. A sweatdrop went down Marth's cheek watching her condition grow worse. _"Or... maybe that was the wrong action?"_ He thought. Shamelessly, he rubbed her hand which made them both red in the face. Marth and Kris's stupid hearts were banging so loud that they didn't hear Cain punching the carriage in his rampage - repeatedly. Marth, however, did see the carriage tip to Kris's direction because of Cain's strength.

The simple thought of her being crushed made him pull her arm so hard he nearly dislocated it, which if she was a weaker woman, it would have. Kris crashed into Marth's chest and he held her like she was just his little teddybear. Kris's stupid emotional heart was swelling up with emotions as her thoughts were screaming like a monkey. _"HE'S EVEN HUGGING ME AGAIN LIKE MY GRANDFATHER WOULD! I LOVE HOW THIS FEELS, BUT WHY DOES MY HEART HURT SO MUCH!?"_ She was about to cry as a stupid smile shot across her face.

“Cain!!” Marth yelled for him as he marched around the carriage. Both the Prince and the Royal Guard saw their very tall friend stop chewing the scenery once he heard that his little buddy Marth was finally home. Sir Cain's red armor was only matched in hue to his heart red hair and eyes. Adorned his red shoulder pads were ash grey spikes. Cain immediately simmered down seeing that Marth and Kris were alright and greeted them with a proper stance.

“H-Hello Sire! It's wonderful to have you back home!!” Sir Cain the Bull huffed out - still catching his breath.

Marth was standing in place as he was still staring at the spikes that now adorn his armor. He placed Kris down and made her turn around. She too had her eyes sparkle and shine. “That detail… Your armor, you’re…!” Marth gasped.

All proper formalities dropped with Cain as he flicked his nose with a massive grin and a chuckle. “That’s right! You’re looking at the new Senior Commander of the Altean Knights! Sorry for not saying it in a letter, but I wanted you two to see it when you guys came back!!”

Kris clapped her hands as she hopped in joy. “Cain!! I'm so proud of you!!” She sprinted circles around Cain. She ignored his personal space as she was poking at all his new armor. "You look so much more like Jagen!" Kris squeaked, not repressing the love her knightly mask does to her expressions. Kris sprang up and near tackled the lumbering bull in a hug. His armor jittered as she was lifting him off the ground. "I'm so happy to call you my boss!"

Both Cain and Marth's face flashed in a flush red seeing Kris break her composure so boldly. While Cain was struggling to juggle Kris's new burst of strength and the two roughhouse with one another like children, Marth was just fixated on her beaming smile. Marth was clasping his sweaty palms together with his sword hand twitching. The Prince's heart was pounding with love for her. Marth's eyes were dilated as the Prince studied their once stoic Royal Guard. _"I haven't seen her act consistently this way since I first met her during her training days. First your grandfather, now you keep acting up here. Have you always hid that side of yourself?"_ He thought to himself why she would repress so much joy over the two and a half years that they've known each other.

Flashes of the past ran past his mind of the dark times that triggered as soon as Kris became officially a knight. After the War of Shadows, there was a need for more men so the gates were open and allowed anyone who could prove themselves to become a knight for Marth. This order includes an assassin who used Kris's might to make it to the top with her in Kris's platoon. Marth's life was nearly taken that day during Kris's own knighting ceremony by that bilge rat. That autumn and winter leading up to the spring that kicked off the War of Heroes was colder than the two years Marth had to exile himself to Caeda's island kingdom.

Prince Marth had a far-off stare as the only other sounds reaching his ears right now was the suggestion that there was a rattling of 'metal coins' in front of him. He was fully disassociating from the world he was in. He was trapped in the black box that was his own mind _. "Katarina may have not killed me that day, but I thought she 'killed' you. I never doubted the love you held for me, Kris... Yet her smiles were always so restrained. Even after we found Katarina later in the war, and you were able to talk her down and I pardoned her for the deed she was forced to do on me, that repression was still there. You were always on guard - always. Was it because you thought I was still too weak enough to protect myself? Because I couldn't save Caeda?"_

Marth looked up at the black wall that was in front of him. Normally this was all he saw, and he awaited the echo of dread to bounce back. Yet this time both his question and an outside force made that wall crack to show a sliver of the world that he was disassociating from. The morning light shined through the hole allowing Marth to both see and mentally register that Dame Kris and Sir Cain the Bull were having an impromptu wrestling match in the middle of the carriage parking lot right in front of him. The numbness that he felt made him stop himself from ceasing this pointless squabble. He only could shift his body and continue to watch them put on a show as if they were the solution to his question.

The stagecoach man was rocking the wagon he was still sitting on. The laughter of the creeky lantern from within was accompanied by the coachman. The guards stationed nearby, seeing that the Hero King was just watching his two best knights duke out in front of them, felt it was appropriate to move in closer to the fight circle if they didn't already get a clear shot of this spar. It wasn't every day for these newer recruits to get to see Cain the Bull battle an equal.

Kris threw her sword away, along with Cain. Two random guards who were surrounding the fight ring held their weaponry for them. Both the Commander and the Royal guard locked each other in a mix of sumo and Greco-Roman wrestling. With both the size and gender difference any sane man would have bet that Cain would have bested Kris in under a second, but Sir MacLear didn't raise any weakling. To keep Cain from simply flipping her over his body like a bull would in a bull run she was using her strength to keep pulling him down. Their feet shuffled in a circle as both were trapped in an inhumanly long power struggle. It was only the force they were exerting on their leg muscles that kept them from slipping. To a far outsider, it would have looked like the two were awkwardly hugging if it wasn't for their veins bursting out of their visible skin that is.

"Challenging me in front of Prince Marth? I know the Code of Chivalry says to never refuse a challenge from an equal, but do you have any _shame?"_ Cain questioned through his clenched smiling teeth. He had the lung to spare to speak while he was pinching the edge over her in their difficult clash. Kris couldn't respond as the might of the bull was crushing her. Their craniums started to compress upon one another as Kris twisted her claws. To Cain, her grip was slipping. He squeezed her wrists and hoisted her up like a freshly caught fish. The bull went to throw her over his shoulder like a human could.

The elevation gave Kris enough room to tuck in her feet and donkey kick him right in his gut. His armor only amplified the devastation of that tavern brawler low blow. The haggling group roared. Marth continued to stare and dissociate. The wind shot out of Cain's gut. His moist spit splattered on her face. The bull dropped her. Kris sneered a devil's grin.

"No." Snarked Kris as if she was the queen of coy.

Kris attempted to sprint into him to simply make him trip and topple over to end the spar swiftly. Cain skid along the floor now on his back leg. Cain used his hunched stance to his advantage. He stopped using his arms, allowing Kris to freely control him with her whole body. Cain grabbed his own ears and used his own might to forcibly tuck in his head to his body. The top of his skull was now pressing against Kris's gut. Using her running momentum to his advantage, he only needed to extort a burst of forwarding acceleration to win this match. He scooped her up with only using his head and stood straight up. The man flipped her over his back as a bull should.

Kris flipped in the air and landed on her back right at the base of Marth's feet. Cain roared while pounding his thunderous chest. "ATTACKING'S THE GREATEST DEFENSE!!!" Cain needed that. As he was huffing out the excess jitters from his body he encouraged the staff that was surrounding them to head back to work, as politely as his pumped-up self could. 

Marth still had his hands held in front of his body, not flinching as Kris slid along the ground. Her face was red. Her smile was filled with pride and child-like wonderment as if she just went on the best joyride of her life. Watching that fight tore away the darkness that was trapping Marth and he could feel the warm morning sun. _"I get it now. You couldn't rest because there wasn't peace."_ Marth thought to himself with his own blushing smile warming up.

"Feeling better now, Kris?" Marth said as he offered down his hand to Kris.

"Yeah!" Kris beamed back as she reached for him. She staggered to her feet. Kris's knees rattled. Her whole body was weak. "I felt, like, a poundin' in m-m-my chest! And I just gotta get rid of it. Get. Get rid of it. I got rid of it!" She was panting, leaning her whole weight on Marth's side. She was gripping his hand for stability. There was a slight hesitation in her joy realizing that she was treating Marth as friendly as one of her own platoon members. Her smile faltered as she stuttered back. Marth hooked his arm around hers and scandalously bounded her hand to his with his tightly clenching fingertips. Kris's stupid monkey-like smile came back to her, as to the pounding she thought she got rid of. She looked up at Marth to see what was his gambit - but all he was doing was smiling warmly back.

"Catch your breath, Kris. You can hold on to me as much as you'd like." Marth reassured her. Internally he was flinching, for he let that thought slip out of his stupid mouth. 

Kris's smile grew which only made her rosy red cheeks more pronounced. "OkAy!" She shouted while letting her voice cracked.

Kris closed her eyes and rested her head on Marth's exposed shoulder. She rested her hand on her breastplate as she focused on some breathing techniques to try to fix her pounding heart rate that was spiking up again for 'some reason'. For Marth's flip side of the coin, he felt like he was about to have a heart attack. He clasped his mouth and looked away from her. _"Wait, no, why?! No! I shouldn't even imply an order to her! I know she'd do anything that I'd ask!!"_

Cain was watching the two cuddle up on one another. Marth looked as uncomfortable as an indoor house cat being rubbed up by the alleyway stray that was Kris. Cain furrowed his brow confused by that difference. _"They're two peas in a pod, so why's he stressed?"_ The semi-dimwitted bull tried to puzzle the mystery by eyeballing where Marth's eyes just so happened to look it. The carriage was starting to roll away. Cain stood in front of the horses to get them to stop, and then marched to the carriage door as the Prince and Royal Guard were trying to catch their racing hearts.

"Hey! You two need anything from here?" Cain called as he balanced himself on the stair of the wagon. 

His shout brought Marth back to reality as he fixated on only his red friend. "Yes! May you grab the bounded letters?"

Kris crashed back into her knightly mindset. She jogged over to where Cain was. "Wait, unhand the parchments, Sir Cain. You'll mess up my organization!" 

Cain huffed out a laugh as he hopped out of her way. Sir Cain then walked back to Marth now properly evaluating him. The tall red knight rubbed his chin as he looked down at his prince as if Marth was just his little brother. "You okay, little buddy? You're looking a little disheveled."

Marth gave an apologetic smile to Cain. “Yes, we’ve - how to word this?” Marth paused as he clasped his hands back together again. “I’m lacking in appearance because it was a part of a humble trade. If you meet a man named Dennis Monty Grail, please allow him to meet me. He’s going to help us gain a large sum of income from a newly found rich vein of clay - possibly porcelain too!”

"I wasn't exactly asking about your clothing, but if you insist," Cain said with a smile. Both of the men watched Kris spring back with a bounded tower of letters. Before she could run past the bull, Cain reached out and held her ponytail. “Did Marth find this guy because you took his eyes off of him when you went into town?”

Marth took a step back with his blooming face becoming even more glowing. Kris did not mind her hair being yanked around since Cain’s grip was gentle and looked up at their superior with a wide smile. “I just stopped by my old house and he was a squatter”. She responded.

“A squatter this time? That’s a new one.” Cain added while Marth folded his arms. Marth hissed from his clenched teeth as Cain and Kris chuckled at Marth’s response. Marth snapped up in attention as a thought returned to him.

“Oh, Kris! May you please give him his letter?” Marth twisted himself to face Kris. She nodded in response and retrieved the tall pile of letters from the carriage. She didn’t need to dig far into the pile and handed a single letter to Cain.

“This is from Sir Draug from his post,” Kris added, which brought a humble smile to Cain right away as he accepted it.

“I wonder how that old drunk is doing, good, I hope” Cain pondered, as Kris then grabbed a semi-large cut from her stack and gave them to Cain next.

“May you also put these letters in a box?” Kris said with a smile as Cain passively took those letters as well.

Marth held the same relaxed aura Kris was resonating as he elaborated for her; “They’re all letters for Jagen, and it’d be better if they were left unread given he can’t read them to respect his privacy.”

Both the Prince and Royal Guard bid a silent farewell to Cain as they walked into the castle to role-play as postal men. Cain stared off into space realizing what they just said, and hurried after them as they walked into the castle. Cain’s metal heels clanked on the yellow brick that adorned the inside halls.

“Wait, how did you two know he was dead?” Cain huffed out after he was able to jog to catch up. The three of them walked together in the hallway. As Kris spotted knights that had parchments, she did a quick stop by them and handed them a letter before running back up to Marth’s side. This cycle repeated several times.

Marth replied while still smiling. “He sent us a letter while we were away while his health was declining. He said he was restful at the very least. I trust he was saying the truth. I’m sorry I wasn’t here to be with all of you and you had to carry that burden alone”.

Cain furrowed his brow as he looked at the letters he was holding. “He told me to say he just went away on a trip.”

Marth’s head tilted down as a wider smile grew across his face, but his eyes hazed in melancholy. “Oh Jagen...” Marth let slip from his lips.

A slanted smile adorned Cain’s face as he cocked an eyebrow at Marth. “He did also write you another letter and told me to give it to you when you returned. I couldn’t help but peek - it’s his last words to you. So you least have that. I put it in your bedroom so give it a read.”

The Prince lifted his head and looked at Cain wide eyed. A bit of hope glimmered in his eyes, and happiness too. “Did he? Thank you for telling me.” Marth said as he nodded to Cain. At the next fork in the hallway, Marth already strayed from Cain’s side and started to head to his bedroom with Kris following their wake.

Cain stopped and called them back. “Wait, there’s something else!” Both Kris and Marth stopped on their path and turned their heads. Cain continued; “There’s a royal decree you need to do before you can have this day for yourself, Sire. May you please head your way to the throne room for the hearing?”

Marth’s attention was cranked up to eleven as he walked back to Cain. “You, Merric, and Elice were given permission to approve anything in my absence”.

“This is one we couldn’t do without you” Cain said neutrally. 

Death, anger, and fear flared in Marth's eyes as his heart flew up his throat. “It’s a decree of war?”

Kris jerked her head to Cain as the same dread was washing over her. Cain looked at both of them like a kid who was caught lying to their parents. He then pinched the air in front of him as he huffed from his nose. “No,” Cain said softly - to each of their bewilderment.

“Just head to the throne room, Marth, It’ll be quick. I promise”. Holding a smile he headed to the throne room himself. Marth and Kris looked at one another, neither had a clue. They then looked at the bustling knights and workers around them. Any of them that were in earshot of that conversation now actively looked away from them at worse while a few of the maids giggled softly. Marth leaned his head over to Kris as he whispered to her.

"Do you have the strength to run?" He asked.

Kris nodded her head to him, which prompted Marth to silently scowl at her. Dame Kris was shoved back by his striking stare.

"Let me ask this again, do you _think_ you have the strength to run? What does your _heart_ say?" Marth whispered harshly. He was doing his best not to imply an order and used this space as a good chance to practice. 

The Dame was pushed away leaving only Kris, the woman, to think about her friend's word. She searched for her response to see if anything was weighing her down. The only thing that was were physical objects. She took a moment to unbuckle her sword from her belt and offered both her sword and stack of letters to the Prince. The Royal Guard disarmed herself for the first time on the job, and she did it with a smile.

"Where do you need me?" Kris said as her heart was beating in excitement.

The humbling action she just did light Marth's mind like a firecracker. He frantically put out that fuse before he lost track of what he wanted done.

“Runabout till you find some of your platoon and ask them what’s going on for me. I’ll walk slowly, and I’ll see you in the throne room.” Marth said as he took her sword and the tower of letters she was carrying.

Kris grinned as she bobbed her head at her best friend before pivoting and sprinted out down a random hall. Marth waited to hear her squeaking boots vanish from his far listening ears before he looked down at the letters and her sword. He wrapped the string that tied the letters together around his finger so he could simply dangle the stack. He then cradled her sword as if it was a baby and looked down at it with the same fondness.

 _"She'd... disarm for me."_ Marth's intoxicating thoughts of love infected his mind. _"I never asked her to put down her sword. I never thought she would for me."_

His right sword hand started to tremble. The moment of vulnerability in his mental fortitude allowed memories to hump at his legs like vile inbred dogs. Marth now was cradling Kris's weapon out of necessity. His heart was beating faster out of fear the people around him would see him be tormented by these returning terrors. His left hand slid across his body and trapped his right fist. He threw his shaking hand down and pressed it against his body as hard as he could to hide the shaking. He subconsciously reached for his cape he wasn't wearing to hide his shaking but Marth gave what he used to mask his pain away. 

Marth had to work with what he had. He quickly buckled her sword to his belt and walked. If Marth wasn't holding onto just the string of the bounded letters, he would have crushed the phonebook-sized stack as if it was thin papyrus. He gulped down his emotions as his repressed thoughts bubbled to the surface.

_"Why couldn't Caeda do the same?"_

\---

As soon as her hands were free she sprinted past the workers in a mad dash across the castle. Kris leapt over balconies. Slid down railings, and dashed through the buildings within the open clearings in the fortified grand castle. Eventually she was able to find Roderick and Ryan who were on guard duty today on the outer parameter wall that overlooked the bailey. A guard yelling as Kris ran past them alerted the two green knights that their commander was coming in. Kris was huffing and waved at both of them.

“Hello!!!” Kris said with burning energy.

Surprised yet overjoyed to see their commander back, Ryan waved back and met Kris halfway across the long wall. “Commander! You’re back from your trip!! How was it?! Did you see my brother Gordin!?”

Sir Roderick blinked twice and then looked back at the unloading dock from their crow’s nest - it was on the other side of the castle. “You just rolled in here…How did you make that distance?” Roderick mumbled to himself.

Kris focused on Ryan since he was closer. “I’ll tell you later! First off though! Is there a surprise waiting for Marth?”

“Oh, Merric and Elice told us not to say anything.” Ryan said which made Roderick nearly jump off the side of the wall.

Kris’ smile grew twice as large. “Merric and Elice, got it!” As soon as she came, she sprinted down the stairs that she took. Ryan’s mind was boggled as he covered his mouth in astonishment. Roderick marched over as he was gawking in shock.

“You idiot!” Roderick blurted out. “We’re going to _die!_ ”

“I’m sorry, Rody!!” Ryan pleaded with tears forming in his eyes.

\- - - -

Cain slowed down and regrouped with Marth seeing that he was trailing right behind him. Servants around them spotted the prince returning and hurried off to inform their friends. Yet the prince's pacing was slow. Cain looked down at their lord and inspected him. The young knight has been with Marth's side since he was fourteen and trained them along with Sir Jagen to become the warrior they were.

Cain knew his tells. The shaking in Marth's fist has been there since Altea burned to the ground during the War of Shadows. The bull had to beat that habit out of Marth so he could channel his rage into raw strength when he swung his swords. Seeing the pain yet again resurface, Cain made a last-second decision that was about to jeopardize a lot of planning he personally had his hands in.

"You don't have to go." Cain said bluntly.

The bull's words made an invisible wall appear which Marth bumped into. The shaking in his sword hand steadily calm but was still present. The Prince looked up at the imposing figure of the strict Cain glaring down at him. The torchlight of the castle cast Cain's looming spiked shape shadow that consumed the Prince.

"Forgive me for my insistence, Sire. You're tired. Go retreat to your chambers if you wish." Cain authoritatively stood firm.

The bellow of Cain's controlled speaking soothed Marth of the terror that was gripping his hand. It hung limply, and he nearly dropped the letters. It was Cain that was one of the precious few knights that survived that night that protected Marth all these years. The thing that Marth lacked in his life now was a family. What Caeda left behind, his friends filled in that ever bleeding gap. Marth's smile returned.

"You only insist when you have a surprise in store for me. Of course I'd want to see it." Marth gave a blushing smile to their dear friend before he turned back down the hall and walked through Cain's invisible barrier. 

The bull was as red as his hair. He blankly stared at the floor. In Cain's frustration for tainting the upcoming surprise, he smashed his heel into the ground and screamed at Marth. "NO I DON'T!" 

Marth kept his back turned to the bull to protect Sir Cain's honor. The Prince covered his mouth and repressed his sniffling giggle. Cain was shooting steam from his nose as he fixed up his hair and fidgeted around in a circle, before committing back to his knightly masquerade and marched alongside Marth.

Knights who could afford to leave their positions slid into minor secret passageways attempting to find a proper spot to watch the throne room. The blue Prince and his red knight entered into the grand long thrown room from a side entrance. The servants that could hide behind pillars as Knights stood on guard - with many more watching through cracks in the walls. A large long carpet rolled up to a podium which sat two thrones, one for a king and queen. Marth walked up the steps to the side, flicked aside the tails of his tunic and sat upon the king’s throne. Cain stood to his side.

“Shall I bring the audience in, Sire?” Cain said as he offered his hand down to Marth to hold onto the letters.

Marth nodded while he kept the letters by the foot of his throne. Cain affirmed his actions before making his leave. In Marth’s brief moment of mental isolation, Marth looked over at the empty queens and paused. He stared at the golden decoration on the empty throne. He reached over from his chair and rubbed the armrest of the queen’s.

 _“I know you would have figured out already what was happening without needing to send Kris on a mad hunt. Let’s see what everyone has in store for us. This should be interesting, right Caeda?”_ He thought to himself. Despite all that has happened, memories of Caeda could still lull him into a sleepy joy. It helped too that he didn't feel isolated. There was the staff failing to sneak into the grand hall which was tickling his curiosity. Additionally, The sword that was pushing against his leg was a gentle reminder that he had another family friend coming back soon. He wasn't alone with Caeda now gone, he still had everyone around him.

 _"...I miss you..."_ He sighed in his thoughts as he rubbed the well cared for chair. _"I don't know if my mind is playing tricks on me but the shine on your throne still glimmers like you did, Caeda. It's as if you didn't leave..."._ His heart thumped, pumping his body with a budding warmth remembering when Caeda simply sat next to him. Even in this loving remembrance, the noose of war tugged on Marth's neck to loan them his ear. From the corner of his eye, he spotted a strange moment from a docile enemy foot soldier. He listened to the whispers of this.

"You think he's noticing that I've been....?" A woman's voice was mixed in the whispers that echoed the hall. It was one he never heard before.

"Stop being ridiculous. He doesn't know you." A maid he recognized whispered back to the stranger that was hiding in his staff.

Marth now glanced at the direction of the conversation and spotted simply a new maid talking with another one. The brunette maid was fidgeting in place as she was pointing at him. Marth hummed in puzzlement and thought about the last action that he did that could have triggered that reaction from the new staff member. He looked at Caeda's throne which was sparkling like it was new, just like his own chair. He mouthed out an 'ohh' when he theorized that this woman was cleaning both their chairs while he has been gone.

His heartbeat in one part pain, but three parts of love as a smile grew across his face. _"It still hurts to think about you, but as fleeting as this happiness is, I should treasure it still as if it was eternal. It's comforting to think that even strangers still love you as I do."_

Marth thought as he looked directly at the maid and waited till they made eye contact. He made sure that the maid saw him giving an approving and slow nod and a tendered smile. Marth then heckled a hardy chortle as he then watched the brunette maid knees grow weak and metaphorically threw up hearts and rainbows at the recognition from her beloved prince.

Marth was huffing while whipping that tear from his eye. The heaviness building in his chest was soon scared away by the sound of Kris's footsteps tapping along the cream-tiled floor. Kris was already sprinting back. Marth sat up straight seeing her coming and waved his hand to the side declaring an order. He pulled back his hand from Caeda’s spot and waved back at Kris.

“Empty the east entryway!” He boomed with a large smile. The knights standing at the side entrance moved as ordered, but the maids had to look behind themselves to see what was coming before they scurried out of Kris’s path. Kris made a long jump and was able to clear the steps that lead up to the two chairs. The carpet messed up her attempt to stick the landing. Spinning her arms to try to stable herself, Marth slapped her breastplate to keep her from falling. Kris held his hand tightly, for her legs were near about to give up with how hard she just pushed herself. 

“Something to do with Merric and Elice. That’s all I could find.” She was able to wheeze out as she was about to collapse on the floor. Marth held her up with one hand as he was smiling just to have Kris back to his side, not so much hearing the news that this was a surprise made by his sister.

“Elice? That puts it together a little bit”. Marth said with an ever-growing smile as he helped Kris stand up. The knights to the servants whispered to one another as their worries started to grow at Kris’s hasty discovery. Marth continued with a grin; “I feel sorry for Merric for being roped in, but I’m not shocked she’s-.“

“Who _squeaked_?” bellowed the Minotaur daemon that patrolled these halls in the late Sir Jagen’s stead. Cain had returned. 

The knights and servants parted like the sea - and the Bull marched swiftly to the throne.“What did she say to you? How did she even find out already!?”

“Cain.” Marth raised his voice authoritatively, but that did not stop his advancements as he walked up the stairs to their elevation. Marth stood from his throne pushed Kris behind him and into Caeda's chair. With an outstretched hand Marth acted as the brave buffer between Kris and a guaranteed beating. Kris felt like she had a second heartbeat pound in her chest as she found herself curled up in Caeda's throan while Marth was playing bodyguard for her as Cain paced around him to look for an opening.

 _"Wait I, I shouldn't be sitting here."_ Her knightly self scolded her as she was shaking like a wet stray cat that just escaped the pouring rain. She had no sword to her name, she just broke her body after being backflipped, she sprinted - lept - and climbed a combination of ten miles just now, and Marth was there - protecting her from the looming Cain. Her fatigued heart patter even harder. As she kept having her eyes on her Prince, her knightly habits were hushed by an invisible assassin named 'love'.

 _"W-why is my ch-chest hurting so m-much today??"_ She thought as she felt her heartbeat pounding inside the base of her throat. _"M-Marth...H-Help me, please. I can't move. I know fatigue like the back of my hand but this tingling is so new... I can't breathe. All I know is that 'I need you'. Don't leave me right now, please."_

Marth was doing all that he could to stop Cain and was trying to talk him down. It appeared that his attempts to calm the bull with his words were successful, but that was only a ruse. Cain reached over Marth's shoulder attempting to pluck the stray off of the top cat's favorite spot. A third heartbeat now pounded in Kris's chest seeing Cain's massive hand coming right for her face. Marth swiped at Cain's hand and dug his nail in like claws to snag himself on Cain's chainmail. The two men were now wrestling over a strength dominance. Bug-eyed and terrified, Kris crawled over the armrest of Caeda’s chair and went to cower in Marth’s. The footsteps of the two people who wanted an audience signaled the pompous housecat, bull, and mangy stray to stop dead in their tracks.

Standing in the middle of the grand hall were two mages. A man with seafoam green hair and eyes of emerald. His gold trim blue mage robe flowed about him as he walked. Concealed underneath his long sleeve was an evergreen-colored codex, his prized magic tome. As he walked the tall hood that was connected to his robes trailed behind him like a cape - he preferred to keep the hood off. This was Merric, Marth’s childhood friend. Standing to the side of him was a daring woman who radiated confidence. Her long hair and eyes matched Marth’s, a hint that they were blood-related. Her mermaid white dress was cropped at the top with the rim of her dress giving to an orange and red alternating stripe pattern that revealed her shoulders. This was Elice, Marth’s elder sister. The two stared wide-eyed at the display in front of them - Cain leaning over Marth while Kris was mid-way crawling over the sacred thrones - and the circus stared back.

Elice was the first to break her composure as she started to go into a laughing fit. She cupped her hands over her mouth as she started to hunch over. Merric’s grip on his prized magic tome trembled as he was blushing to see the throne chairs being used as a jungle gym. Marth’s guard fully lowered as he turned to face his family, which gave the ever-steady Cain an opening to walk past the Prince. The bull picked up Kris from underneath her gut and carried her to the side like a lioness would their cub. Marth jerked and reached out to Kris who was being kidnapped but steadied himself seeing that both of them were standing on the sidelines with the rest of the staff. Cain stood proper with both arms firmly by his side, while Kris was still hunched over drawing heavy breaths. Cain looked at their tired cohort and pushed on her back.

“Hands above your head, cadet”. Cain whispered as Kris did what was ordered of her.

“ _‘Cadet’_ , Heh…” Kris mockingly brought up, the reference to her training days made Kris’s easy-going smile crawl back. Seeing Kris smile made Marth steady himself, heart shaking. Yet he could not afford to think of her, his duties called. He sat down on the throne and awaited Elice and Merric to approach. His eyes met Merric’s - and though Marth’s ever-present smile calmed many - for Merric’s body today it ruled him in fear. The Wind Mage Merric curled up and looked at Elice’s white pearl heels. Hanged over, he held onto his wind tome as if it was a plush. Everyone’s eyes were on this poor sickly green lad.

“I can’t do this”, Merric admitted to Elice.

Gasping with her hand stuttering up to her mouth, she walked over my Merric’s side and actively encouraged him. Her back pivoted to Marth so he could not see either of their lips as they talked.

“Yes you can”, Elice softly proclaimed as her lightly balled fist bounced up and down. “I believe in you Merric, I know you can. You just need to believe in yourself.”

“We can still tell him privately-“. Merric attempted to dismiss.

“You wanted to do this for him. You wanted this too. I know you do. Don’t give up”. Elice continued to encourage on.

There was a gentle whistling from Merric’s nose as he drew an inhumanly long breath that followed with a reverberating exhale. Through the use of wind magic he was using the air around him to steady himself - no different how one would normally draw breath, but just more efficiently. With a nod to Elice and a burning smile between the both of them, they both stretched out back to their equal standing positions a distance away from the throne. Both Merric and Elice bowed to Marth.

“I trust that your travels were well, my dear brother”? Elice spoke holding her curtsy.

“That they were. You may rise.” Marth spoke softly. An unmistakable aura of pride was brimming from the Prince as he watched his closest family rise - the last fragments he had of his past before the war. Merric still had his tome clenched tightly against his chest. To give time for his beloved friend to recover, Marth continued the banter. “We return back with letters of plenty from our friends at the front lines, as well as the promises of raw mineral for artisans and the road makers alike.” Marth turned his head to Merric who notably worked up the courage to finally lower his book to his side. “You may speak when you are ready, my dearest friend.”

Merric’s lips went to part, but the title given to him made him stop. Merric’s eyes sharply slashed to the side as he ripped apart his own mental script - he started to speak from off the cuff.

“Your Excellency’s, please excuse me for forcing you in an audience with you after the first few steps you made back into your home.” The first part of his script was still preserved, but when he spoke on, Merric tore what he prepared for in ribbons. “I come before you not as the Head Arc Sage of your royal court. Not as the honorary Pontifex for the City of Magic - Khadein. Not as your comrade during the War of Heroes, nor the War of Shadows, nor as the hero that slew the Dark Pontifex Gharnef twice. Not as a Nobleman - or even a friend. I come to you as my own man - the man that made themselves to who they are, standing before you, today.”

“Very well, Professor Merric. Please. State your business”. Marth spoke, near the edge of his seat.

Merric stood there with all his mental notes in shambles around him. His bottom lip became butter on a fryer as his words slipped and slurred around. Merric’s eyes pivoted over Elice, dilated, rattling. The lovely cleric nodded in approval to their green mage with an encouraging smile. The warmth only made his stress sizzle and pop. Merric’s jittering hand clenched his magic tome as he sucked in air once more. His head tilted into the sky as he creaked out his request.

“Marry!” Merric swung his head down in a bow so hard that his pointy hood swung over. “I want to marry Elice!!”

A few of the audience flinched due to the high note Merric was able to hit. Elice stuttered hearing Merric’s voice crack, not only because how it ravaged her ears but because of how Merric’s confidence swiftly shifted to begging. She glanced up at her brother, Marth, who was about to stand from his chair. All she could read from his body language was that he was “surprised”. Merric couldn’t hear anything. He couldn’t hear Elice taking steps back away from him, couldn’t hear the two-ton king’s throne let out a screech along the floor as Marth pushed it back with only his bare hands. All he could hear was the heavy unforgiving pounding that ravaged his chest and his own cries.

“Elice means everything to me! I left you both to study to be strong for you - when this home was taken from you! Every day I pushed myself to become the best mage for her! For you! I love you both since the day I first met you! Please Marth, let me into your family! Let me have her! She’s my angel!”

Merric could hear again - but now there was only a deafening silence. Here was the softly spoken Merric howling like a storm. The mage scanned around him and saw only a field of red roses - all the attendees were both deeply moved by his raw confession and astonished at his vulgar public display of passion. Merric’s eyes looked not at Marth, but to the love of his life, Elice. The red faces about them only made Elice’s striking blues and whites pop. Her hands were cupped over her lips, and underneath her dress her legs grew weak. Merric started to hear sounds again - the echo of running, and his own heartbeat. Merric squinted his eyes shut as he smiled at Elice while rubbing the back of his head.

“W-W-W-What I meant to say was-!” Merric attempted to correct himself, but he should have looked where the running was coming from.

Marth leaped from the elevated throne and ran over to the both of them. Taken fully off guard Merric wheezed as Marth’s thick solid arm jabbed him in the gut. Marth picked up Merric in a tight bond and was squeezing him tight. Both of Elice’s favorite boys were shuddering with their breathing. Merric looked at Elice first over Marth’s back with a sheepishly growing smile of accomplishment. Meanwhile, Marth looked at Elice fully faltering as his eye ducks allowed his dried-up tears to flow down his cheeks once more.

“I have a baby brother, Elice” Marth croaked.

What followed Merric’s hollowing winds, and Marth’s stormy sorrow, came Elice’s sunshine of bliss.

“My two foolish boys…” Elice whimpered out as she joined their embrace. The cheering from the crowd was kicked off by the squeal of the rainbow brunette maid.

Kris clasped her hands against her chest as she watched Marth slowly spin in place holding Merric and Elice in his godly grip. Her heart was beating strong as her hands trembled from her might. Cain was taking a massive exhale as all the pent-up worry finally left his system. No more screaming, _for now_.

“Did Jagen know?” Kris quipped at Cain, making the red knight look down at their equal. He huffed out a laugh.

“You’re still a little new here Kris. Everyone knew this was coming” Cain chipped in.

“Well apparently the Prince and I didn’t!”, Kris jumped in excitement.

Cain tilted his head from side to side. “Well, the both of you, are, you know. “ He meandered - then knocked on his forehead like he was knocking on a door. “A little”.

Kris rested her fists on her hips gasping.“We’re not dense!!” Which to that protest made Cain laugh out-loud.

As the Prince was hugging his new whole family, an epiphany struck him. He pulled back, holding the opposite of their shoulders to make sure they were both in his view, his smile wide and not an ounce of hesitation in his next words. “Caeda was preparing our wedding before everything happened. I’m sure we could use some of her old plans for you two! She would have loved this and would want you to be wed before us, undoubtedly! Please, I insist!”

Both Merric and Elice took pause at how confidently Marth was able to talk about Caeda, openly. Merric looked at Elice, awaiting her next step of their sneaky little plan. Elice gazed down her brother even wondering if they should even continue with their gambit. Though in her heart she wanted a wedding for all her adult life - yet for the name of her brother she stuck to her plan. “We actually have something else in mind, brother.” Elice turned her smiling head to Merric who was ready for this volley. In one hand he opened up his tome that flipped through the pages by itself, the other palm remained empty for now as he was channeling magic.

“We were thinking of a ball, a Magical Masquerade”, Merric spoke as calmly as ever whenever it involved magic. In his hand he was able to conjure multi-colored lights that shined like fireflies. This was a new spell that sucked near all of Marth’s attention away as he stared at the pretty lights. “People would be invited to dance with no identity beyond their mask. Their hair color and voice were made indistinguishable by my magic. My students are helping me theory craft how to handle disguises on a large scale. It’d be a special and a wonderful social opportunity even for you.” Merric said, his heart brimming with joy for his craft.

Marth blinked from his trance as a part of what Merric said. “Students?” Marth questioned. Merric sucked in his air as his heart started to falter and glitch in nervousness. Elice slid in as soon she felt Merric lose his fragile stride.

“We established a magic academy within the castle in the study wing while you were away. Don’t worry, you would have said ‘yes’ to that request anyway.” Elice dismissed with a dainty hand wave.

Marth let go of his siblings and held his chest with both arms. He attempted to repress the laughter, but the amount of raw joy he felt burst from his ironclad control. Marth’s laugh echoed down the chamber. Elice drew a long breath. This was a sound she had not heard from him since he was a boy. Huffing like a hog wrangler his cheeks were flushed with joy. “Who am I to stop you two _at all_?! You may do whatever you **wish**!”

Right as the permission was given Cain stuck some of his fingers in his mouth and whistled everyone’s attention. He used his Jagen-esk voice to commanded everyone. “Alright, we got the OK! Let’s get to work!!!” Cain shouted as many of the servants were already heading into predetermined groups and scurrying off. Marth broke into another fit of jovial laughter at how prepared everyone was for this day.

As Cain marched away, Kris stood stationary beside the throne's steps to stare at Marth. She's never heard him laugh so loud, smile so gay, or speak to Elice and Merric in this youthful energetic way. All during the first weeks she's been with him as his hand-picked Royal Guard - to the darkest hours when Caeda was gone - to the heat of battle against enemies who were unredeemable, heartless, and cruel - he always had some level of self-control. She'd see his mask break because of how close they were, proximity-wise, but she was never too sure if she was allowed to get to know his 'true side'. 

She never knew it was right to share the same vengeance that Marth held in his heart, or to weep when they were both alone. Yet here he was now, showing the joy he felt to the world. Like a slow base in a jazzy waltz, her heartstrings tugged along to a beat that made her drift to the recent past - when Marth asked shyly to hold her hand back to the carriage. She clasped the same hand that he held her, with the same tight grip she could best emulate.

 _"If peace is making your mask slip, then what was your real reason to hold my hand? The way you held my chin, too. You were so shaken to see me be sad again. Did my moment of weakness for my grandfather make you feel more comfortable with me?"_ Her tired body huffed and heaved for air as she was letting her thoughts puzzle how she felt. The funky base had it's own solo in her chest. She looked down and rested her fingers on her breastplate. The jamming her heart was having was shaking the shoddy shack that was her overworked body.

 _"Luke, the dumb fool, told me that love makes you feel meek in the knees. Is this what love feels like? Of course I love you Marth, you've given me so much."_ She was fighting her thoughts as her vision started to blur. _"Yet why does the thought of you now feel so different than before? Why did you ask me to hold your hand? Why all the way back too, and the ride here!? Why was your face red when I looked at you?"_ Despite all the pumping her heart was making, the feelings of love were making blood pump away from not-so-necessary parts of her body, like her legs. Her body started to sway. The foot traffic around her grew hollow as she kept staring at her breastplate, at her shaking trembling heart.

To keep her from collapsing, she lowered herself to the ground. She crawled up the nearest steps and sank on the ground, at the feet of Marth's king chair. Her tired body couldn't support her knightly style she pushed herself and these new budding feelings of love. _“What is this burning I feel inside? I’ve scaled towers and toppled dragons in my lord’s name, yet seeing him smile rots me in pain? What is this witchcraft?”_ The saucy saba she felt oozing from her ears made her deaf to the sound of two men and the clopping of heels running over to her. The song her heart was singing only grew louder as her biceps were squeezed by Marth's hands. Kris gasped as she was looking Marth right in the face.

“Are you okay?” Marth's wet palms held Kris. He was kneeling right beside her as she was on the ground. Elice was close behind and Merric walking up not too far away. 

Every sensory input Kris was having was only on Marth, except for taste. Kris was now growing hot and bothered, and deathly scared why she suddenly wanted to 'eat' Marth all of a sudden. She adverted her eye contact just to think, but Marth's grip on her chin just brought her back into her own blue adorned hell. She finally settled on shaking her head. 

"H-hold me?" She nervously squeaked.

Marth held her head to his chest and was stroking her hair. "Hold on, I'll take you to the infirmary. May I pick you up?"

Kris was just taking big long-drawn breaths of air as she was feeling and smelling Marth. _"What is wrong with me? I should be focused on my job of keeping him safe, yet I'm, I'm, I'm faining weakness just so that I can have him hold me?? I'm a craven. Why do I want to eat him!?!?"_

"Kris?" Marth shook her, which Kris mumbled a sound to the prince to show that she was still here. He couldn't leave her, so he just kept petting her. "I'm so sorry, Kris. This is all my fault-"

“Marth, you _really_ need to stop saying that.” Elice barked as she was overlooking Kris from standing over them.

“No, This time I am directly responsible Elice! This is my fault!” Marth confesses as he propped Kris’s back against the side of the King's front row seat and rested his hand on top of her hands to give her something to hold. “Cain scared us both making us think we had to agree to a war when we came back. I knew no one around us would tell us what was happening so I asked Kris to run to see if her platoon would tell her.”

Elice gawked at them then furrowed her brow into a scorn. “How dare you, Marth. You never take Kris’s feelings into consideration!” Marth looked up at her in shock. “Look how much you overworked her over a little scare! You need to be more careful with what you say to her! You know she’d do anything for you at a drop of a hat!”

Marth was crimson red. “E-Elice!!”

In an effort to calm their lord, Kris reached out to Marth’s closest hand and interwove their fingers together. Holding his hand in a tight squeeze. She was shaking with nerves, and thankfully didn’t notice Marth was trembling too at his hand being assaulted by her grip. The pressure for both of them was heavy. “I’m perfectly fine... just.... uh... _head over heels_ to see you two together - Merric, Elice”. Kris was huffing from in-between breaths.

“But you’re shaking”. Marth thought out loud in worry as he whipped the sweat from her forehead.

Merric was studying everyone’s breath and their heart palpitations by the power of his wind magic. His emerald green eyes fixated on the interactions between Kris and Marth with his keen eye deducing a rather peculiar conclusion. _“_

 _Though Kris is strained from overexerting herself there’s something that’s off-tune. Why is the stuttering in both their breath similar to the kind Elice has with me. Is it even the same kind? I can’t be sure, but that’s my hypothesis - they like each other?”_ Merric attempted to rationalize these thoughts in his head. The sound of Elice’s pearly white heels along the tiled floor naturally alerted Merric that she was turning to face him. The two met eyes.

“Is she okay, Merric?” Elice questioned with a concerned look finally showing through. A body cue was given out when she faced her beloved that basic mortals couldn’t hear - there was a slight stutter in her breath as she looked upon Merric the love of her life. It was a cue that the spirits of the winds however could hear loud and clear and whispered the truth to Merric.

Merric’s eyes hyper-focused on Elice for he still had his spell being cast. It was an intense stare - one could confuse it for anger if they were not used to Merric’s devotion to the arts. “ _That stutter she just breathed, it is the same as Marth and Kris!”_ Merric’s eyes then slashed down to Marth and Kris. Kris was still looking away from Marth - still haven’t moved from sitting on the ground. Their fingers were coiled around one another. _“Did they interlope during their travels?”_ Merric continued to think to himself.

“Merric?” Elice said as she took a step forward to Merric, reaching out to her beloved.

Merric still needed a few seconds to conjure a solution to this minor issue before things escalated. He then started to walk past Elice and to Marth and Kris with a forced smile adorning his face. “I believe she is just fine.”

Before Merric could get closer, Elice held out her hand to halt his advancement. “What was with that look you gave me?”

Not much ever gets past Elice. Merric eyes searched for an answer timidly before his expression lit up like a lantern. He then slid Elice a semi-smug look as he slowly pushed against her extended arm with his body. “I simply got lost in your eyes.”

The roadblock that was Elice’s arm fully retracted as she covered her blushing face. Cupping her cheeks she looked away and swayed her dress all bashfully. Merric glanced to the side with a smile bursting on his face as he thought to himself. _“Oh my, that worked?”_ He then cleared his throat and kneeled next to Kris alongside Marth. The wind mage was still balancing his open codex like a waiter’s platter. He cleared his voice before speaking. “Marth, I believe she’s…” He trailed off. Merric slid in-between Marth and Kris to force the Prince to move out of Kris' view. Just as Merric predicted Kris’s breathing returned to normal. A relaxed smile was across his face, which encouraged Kris to relax her breathing even more. “…She is just fine.” He closed his tome, but slid his thumb into the page he was channeling his magic from so he could stealthful keep inspecting the both of them. Alongside Marth, they stood back up. “Just a little winded. The news was quite a shocker too. She just needs to walk it off - which shouldn’t be an issue for her at all.”

As Elice helped Kris stand Marth let out a chuckle. “It shouldn’t, hopefully!”. Marth turned to Kris who was clinging to Elice’s arm. “Again I should be apologizing to ask you to do so much after so much stagnation”. Kris’s response was to smile at him, but also curl up into her armor with her rosy cheeks matching the hue of her sepia red shoulder pads. Marth’s heart pulsed against his rib cage. _“She looks so cute when she’s bashful”,_ Marth’s impulsive thoughts raced through his mind.

The thought made Marth pause in his speech which took a second for him to recover from before continuing speaking. Both that and the sound patterns of his breathing made Merric’s analytical eyes fixate on Marth as he rubbed the enchanted page of his tome. “ _No, it’s not love like Elice and I share - It’s a mutual feeling of infatuation. At the very least for Marth. I know Marth’s breathing - I breathed the same whenever I thought about Elice for years.”_

Marth continued with a smile to hopefully cheer up Kris’s mood. “I was just talking to Elice about the classes she teaches now. Their next lesson will be starting soon. There’s a lot of things I still need to do in the castle, but why not go visit the class in my stead for today? The walk and break will do you well I think. You can tell me about it tomorrow morning ” Marth asked but then was interrupted by Kris.

“Tonight, at dinner”. Kris said as she stared into the white of Elice’s dress. She couldn’t repress the smile nor blush that was now stitched onto her face. “I can catch up with the 7th platoon and the rest of the knights tomorrow”.

Hearing that Kris was prioritizing him over all her friends made Marth’s sinful heart palpitate. Little did he know that Kris’s heart was thrashing her insides the same way. Exhaling, Marth nodded in agreement - once again attempting to hold his professional aura about him. “I’ll see you then. Allow me to handle the letters for you”. Marth went to retrieve the letters. A gushing wind swept in-between his legs that cut up the tails of his tunic. The heavy force triggered his reflexes and Marth hopped to the opposite side of the hall. Though he lacked any sword, his hand hovered where it would have been over his belt. Marth’s battle-ready stance gave way though as he saw Merric extending his hand out to the throne.Marth fully relaxed his stance when he saw that Merric was commanding the winds to fly over and blow all the letters into his open palm. Merric looked over at Marth with a brimming smile.

“Can’t have you also over-exerting yourself too, Marth.” Merric shouted. With a nod he took point for his little group of three and went to his class of students. Kris migrated over from Elice’s arm and over to Merric’s both for stability and to grab the letters from him.

Elice was last to bid Marth farewell. “And before you start running about the castle as well, please make yourself look presentable! You look like you just got out of a bar fight!” Marth was left in a state of shock as Elice twirled around and went about her way before she could hear her beloved brother quip back at her.

\- - - - -

The three of them walked down the grand halls of Altea Castle - the maids to the knights were in a hustle thanks to Cain’s orders to prepare for the magical masquerade ball. Kris, who was sandwiched in between Merric and Elice, was flipping through the letters to find which ones were entitled for the two lovebirds that rested on her shoulders. The nosy Elice was spying at all the letter titles to get glimpses into the lives of the attendants that lived in her home. Merric was focused on Kris as he thought about the future.

“ _I was worried about Elice’s first child. If they were a boy, I know that would make Marth feel relaxed about his situation due to the rules of heredity. Yet if things sail well between Marth and Kris, she could become his princess - then later queen if I’m remembering these complex royalty titles from my studies correctly”._ A veil of lament covered Merric’s judgment as he remembered the burning smile Caeda held - the confidence she had riding her pegasus, the countless of allies she recruited to the army during the War of Shadows, and the few times where they saved each other’s lives. The entirety of Caeda and Merric’s friendship waltz across his memory.

 _“She was everything I thought a ruler should be despite her small kingdom. When I joined Marth’s efforts last year, she was already gone. Even if Marth now rules over nearly every kingdom in our side of the sea, there will still be important people questioning his choice to marry a commoner if he does love Kris. No one even knows who Kris is since all the feats done by her are sung about as Marth’s accomplishments.”_ Raw worry about the Merric’s own unique situation in this mess was crawling across his face like a black wooly spider skittering along a neon green painted wall.

 _“But I know Marth. Give him time and he’ll find a way to solve that social hiccup. I theorize she’d need the approval of at least a few noble houses since she’s a commoner - especially houses in Altea, for everything to fall in place. But as the surviving head of my own house, I don’t know if I’d approve of her as my queen. I would need to see how at least one, maybe two, houses think of her before I could even consider approving. Her leadership was unquestionable during war and she was a friend to all of us just like Caeda was, but is that what Marth really needs in time of peace?”_ Merric hugged his tome with a worry scorn burned on his spider-covered walls for all to see. _“I’m despicable. I’m allowing myself to think ill of Kris - and if they’re happy together then it should be so. But I know the chilling winds of war, they so easily erode peace into dust.”_

“Professor Merric…” Kris said as she was holding letters for him to take. Both Elice and Kris looked at Merric with worry in their eyes.

“Are you alright, my love?” Elice asked as she clasped her own letters to her chest. The concern that Elice held for Merric was enough to shake the cobwebs off of him.

Merric responded by shaking his head no, then looked down at Kris. He pondered the right words to say before narrowing his focus to attempt to solve some of his anxieties. “How is Marth - regarding the topic about Caeda?” Merric questioned as he placed his letters into his sleeve, and let his magic robe store and organize the parchments into his pockets for him to read later. Merric continued to question as Kris slowed her pace and blankly looked forward in worry.

“It was difficult to read his tone when we told him about our engagement”. Merric spotted Kris starting to shake her head and was about to speak. The act of rejecting the pursuit of knowledge to Merric was an insult to his character. An inattentive scorn shot across his face as he marched in front of Kris. “If he asked you to not speak of such topics - then with what little authority I hold - I order you as fiancé to the Princess of Altea to speak what you know without restraint.”

Elice skipped a step backwards with her fingertips lightly touching her top lip in shock. Kris looked wide-eyed at Merric’s determination - and was downright charmed by his display. She clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth and held a devil’s grin. “You know, I was going to reject that request. But since you didn’t fall into the pitfall trap of proclaiming you were gonna become a prince? I’ll let my lips slide for once.” She said as she pointed to him walking past his barricade.

Merric looked at Elice with an impish smile so large a melon could fit in it and fist-pumped the air. Merric quickly fixed his face to reserve his more controlled joy as he caught up to Kris’s side. Seeing Merric’s pride about his simple studies of royalty-paying off made Elice trail behind, and nearly ripped her dress from her body with how hard she was clenching at her heavy heartbeat.

Kris continued; “I think he’s been getting better. He was advised by Palla and Minerva when we visited Macedon to try to speak about her more openly at the start of our trip. It’s with that and other efforts he’s been getting better about not looking glum about the thought of her. That said, the letter we got from Jagen was a real setback on that progress. His death put us both bedridden for three days straight like a pair of crying sick baby twins”. She recalled the memory with a juxtaposing grin. “I think we’re both stronger from that news because we least had each other. He hasn’t been sad talking about Jagen since those three heavy days! I like to think it’s because he’s been learning of how he’s been coping with Caeda”.

Merric relaxed his shoulders and his whole aura was oozing positivity now that one of his concerns was being solved. Yet another intrigue sparked in Merric as he then tilted his head at Kris. “That’s a peculiar trick Minerva and Palla taught you. Did they do that to cope with Michalis?”

Kris shook her head as they were approaching the door to the singular classroom. “No, it’s how they’ve been coping with Est’s disappearance”.

Merric had his hand on the classroom door to open it for Kris, but pulled back hearing that. “Est disappeared?”

Kris shrugged as she stretched her arms behind her back while still clasping the letters she had to deliver later. “Abel road into their castle one day looking for Est then road off. The sisters say Est is running away from him. They were really relaxed with the whole thing so I trust their intuition when they say Est is nervous about their marriage and isn’t handling it right. I don’t get it, Merric. Abel was Cain’s partner, The Panther to Cain’s Bull. A proud knight of Altea! Yet he’s now running around after his betrothed like a blind fox in a hen house. Est too! She just flew the coop because she’s scared to talk about her _feelings_. I thought they were better than that? ‘Least the stories I heard about them both before and during the War of Shadows.”

Merric tilted his head to her with a very empathetic smile to their situation. “Love makes you do crazy things, Kris”. Kris passively nodded in agreement as Merric continued. “After all, didn’t you hear how loud I screamed in the throne room?” Both of Marth’s best friends shared a laugh at Merric’s personal embarrassment.

Merric went to open the door, but the swift Elice walked up to the door to stop him. “Kris, may you head in before us? There’s a word I want to have with Merric before then. Elice said as she was holding Merric’s forearm and was pulling him away from the door. Poor Merric was puzzled by her sudden rejection of heading to class. Kris too didn’t know how to handle the situation and scratched the back of her head. “Don’t worry, even though I could wait, this gives the students a chance to get over your uh- the fascination of a new guest! They took a while to get over Luke when he was our aid.” Elice attempted to find an answer.

“Oh, Sir Luke is with you”? Kris hopped as she was already digging for his letters next in her pile.

Elice nodded her head rapidly. “Yes he’s been stationed to help with the students by Cain personally! Why don’t you two catch up then we’ll join you everyone!” Kris smiled in agreement as she went into the classroom, and Elice closed the door behind Kris.

Elice was facing the door as she was fogging up the opaque window with her heavy breaths. Merric began to question Elice’s jitteriness in her breath. “Is everything okay, my zephyr angel?”

Hearing her pet name made Elice roll her head and shoulders in bliss. She was huffing from her nose, dropped her letters, and faced him. Her magic hand was throbbing as she lost control. “I love you”. She whispered breathlessly as she dropped her letters from her hands. Before they parchment touched the ground she snatched the front of Merric’s cloak in her fits and was locking lips with him. His letters, his magic tome, and an assortment of levitating magical nicknacks underneath his long blue cloak fell onto the ground around both their feet. Merric used what little strength he had to pull his head back from Elice, his heart now pounding as fast at hers.

“W-what’s gotten into you?!” murmured Merric as Elice was stroking the side of his face.

“It’s just in my blood”, Elice purred loudly as she used her superior strength to pin Merric’s back to face the wall. She nibbled on his quivering bottom lip before pulling back to lick her own upper lip because of her starvation. “You’re so cute” she cooed. She forcibly rejoined lips and enjoyed her meal.

Not resisting Elice’s impulses, Merric’s gyrating hand lifted up high into the air and reached behind his head to pull his long pointy hood over his face. This was to spare him from looking at the squats of maids and knights that were passing them in the hallway - which one of them was Cain’s group! The Bull stood across the hallway with his trailing squad of servants. All of them surveilled Elice enjoying her food as if this was a field trip to the zoo. Among his students was the rainbow barfing brunette maid who slid to Cain’s side with an innocent question.

“Does firey passion like that run in Marth’s bloodline, Sir Cain?” the brunette asked as she tapped her fingertips together, not making direct eye contact with her superior.

Cain looked down at the cadet maid and thought back to when Marth’s mother and father still walked these halls when he was a squire. As some uncomfortable encounters played in his memory he apologetically nodded yes to her question. The Bull then focused back on the job and whistled for everyone’s attention. “That’s enough lollygagging”. Cain beckoned everyone to follow him again, but the brunette stayed behind.

Her one true pairing was kissing in front of her, she couldn’t just leave this magnificent sight. Yet in her amazement, she saw that some of the letters that were abandoned by the couple were starting to be stepped on the other groups that were actively avoiding the hungry princess. The maid’s duties called for her first, as she impulsively bounced across the hallway picking up all the letters that were being blown around. With almost the same amount of energy, the maid was kneeling right next to Elice and Merric as she was organizing all the possessions that fell out of Merric’s cloak. “Where should I put this for you, your gracefulness?” The maid spoke clearly only because of her nightly rehearsing these lines. The good maid had her eyes firmly down at the ground and dared not look up.

Elice was holding one of Merric’s thighs up as she tugged the rim of his big hood over his eyes for him. Merric’s poor quaking could only lightly clasp at the side of Elice’s dress, making the bottom of her pearl white dress sway. The princess pulled back from licking her partner's lips giving Merric only a valuable few seconds to catch his breath. Elice did not make eye contact to the awaiting kneeling maid. “Thank you Hazel. May you please put everything on the front desk to the room you're facing. The desk will be right in front of you when you walk in”.

“Yes, your greatness”, the maid named Hazel responded. Hazel swiftly gathered up their inventory and slid into the room as Elice went back to vent out her love all over Merric’s little pail red face.


	4. Something about us - Something between us

Hazel hurried into the makeshift classroom with the heavy door closing behind her. It was a rectangular long room - two stories - repurposed library. The singular entrance spilled out into the front of the room, which was refurbished. A blackboard for chalk laid dusty with a singular big mahogany desk adorning the front. Along the ground floor were massive tables that stretched out into rows. At the front of the class was Kris who was facing down the classroom, unmoving beyond shooting Hazel a quick glance.

“Excuse me.” Hazel murmured as the lonely maid slid past Kris and placed the papers and apparatuses onto the front desk next to Kris’s bounded stack of letters. The maid attempted to just leave the way she came, but as she turned to leave her eyes panned along the ground floor and saw all the students hunched up in the back of the classroom library like a pack of baby chicks hiding in the nest. The class was a mix of age groups but were all under or at their early teenage years. One of the taller students had their hands held up into the air, which was the direction Kris was looking. Hazel looked up and saw that Luke, the Paladin of Dawn, was drifting about in the air. The tall student was levitating Luke and the student couldn’t lower them. As he slowly rotated around Luke saw the gasping maid and the perplexed Kris. Luke was going to wave at Kris, but seeing there was a maid in the room he winked, snapped both his fingers, and pointed right at Hazel.

“Looking good, even from this angle - Hazel!” Luke said as he continued to float like a dandelion puff in the wind.

Hazel and Kris clenched their teeth and squinted their eyes in disgust at Luke. Kris was then the first to turn her back on Luke and the students as she ever so calmly faced the maid. She scratched the back of her head as she cocked a nervous eyebrow. “You wouldn’t know a counteractive spell to this?”

Hazel shook her short straight hair back and forth. “This is one type of mess I haven’t had the proper training to clean up yet, dame.”

“Ah, that’s alright”, Kris meandered as she put her hands on the back of her head as she pondered how to clean this up herself. A thought struck her though that made her stand proper and her welcoming smile was in full blast. “Say, I haven’t seen you around before! What’s your name?”

“HELLO?” Luke shouted to get Kris’s attention. “Will you not help the greatest knight of all of Altea?”

Kris looked up while resting her hand on her hip. “I’m going to use a new saying that I learned from Darros when he was sailing us around during our trip; Scupper that mouth of yours”.

“What in Naga’s holy name does that mean!?” Luke proclaimed as he slowly rotated in the air like a hog roast.

“It means throw your mouth overboard”!

“How can I throw my mouth overboard when I’m not even on the deck, commander!?” Luke proclaimed with a smile. “What’s next in your insane rambles, o’ sea dog? Will you screech Oi’s at me while you claw my eyes from my wonderful skull? Make me adorn an eyepatch as a mark of the rightful sea captain that I secretly was born to be?” Luke lamented as if he was on stage.

Kris now rested both hands on her hips as both her and Hazel the maid were giggling. “Just shut up and I’ll get to you when I get to you!”

Luke shrugged as he just allowed himself to relax again while in the air. “Eh, I deserve this. Take your time”.

To release a little of stress that naturally builds up when dealing with Luke, Kris exhaled and flicked her ponytail back. “I’m Kris, Royal Guard to Prince Marth. Well met”. She held out her hand so they could shake.

Hazel’s eyes shimmered at Kris’s title while she clasped her own hands together. “To the _Hero King?_ ” She gasped, then swiftly entered in her most elegant curtsy. “My name is Hazel Python, from the noble house of Python.” She then scurried to shake Kris’s hand with both hands. “It’s a pleasure to meet you! I only just came here about two weeks ago”.

Kris gave her a sunny smile as Kris was careful not to crush her gentle grasp. “I hope I see more of you then! I can show you how to tend to the knight’s gear once we settle down.”

Hazel twiddled her thumbs as she blushed. “I would like that actually. I haven’t been meeting Lord Cain’s standards.” she admitted bashfully in a hushed tone.

“Then I’ll help you tomorrow. Meet me in the main armory at the sound of the rooster’s crow and I’ll teach you all that there is to know about weapons and armor.”

“At the _crack of dawn_ tomorrow _?_ ” Hazel questioned, which Kris agreed with a head nod. The maid gulped.

“Just do me one favor if you may?” Kris asked as she started to back away to get some running room as she was about to attempt to save Luke. “Can you distract Merric and Elice for a little while longer for me?”

Hazel paused before speaking. “They’re in a very heated conversation right now, but I think I can buy you a few more seconds”.

Kris responded with only a head nod as Hazel daintily ran out of the room. One of the students poked their head up from the crowd as Kris was warming up. “You’re not telling on us, Miss Kris?”

Kris looked over at the children who were still hiding in the shadows of the library. First, she was taken back by their question, then held a warm smile to them all. “A true knight protects the honor of fellow knights. That is one of the many parts that make the Code of Chivalry. I live every day to embody such a code, and I hope all of you will one day too.” Kris sucked in her gut as she was shuffling backup and forth to line up her body with Luke trying to guess how he was drifting back and forth. “ _The worst that can happen is if I can’t weigh him down we’re both just stuck in the air till Merric comes back. The best result is that the weight will be too heavy for the mage to handle and we both fall down. But how to get up there in the first place?”_ She pondered at thought. Kris gasped when an idea came to her and she took out her sword that was attached to her belt. “Hey kids, you want to see a sword trick Prince Marth taught me in the war?”

Luke’s eyes bugged out of his head hearing the sword being drawn and only managed to relax a little as Kris placed her sword on the teacher’s desk. She was only meaning to unhitch her sheave from her belt. Though not the whole class shared in the excitement, some of the older kids stood up with anticipation hearing that they were about to see one of Prince Marth’s famous sword techniques. The student who spoke up was the one actually levitating Luke as they shouted in hype. “Yeah! Which one are you doing? The Dolphin Slash?! The Crescent Slash?!”

Kris stood on the table where Luke was going to drift to next after studying his repeated pattern of drifting. She held the sheave in a reverse grip and started to twist and crouch while she kept her eyes on the sky. “The Dolphin _Jump,_ actually.” Kris corrected the student as she twirled the scabbard in anticipation. Once Luke was right above her she uppercut with her sword fist and used the kinetic energy stored in her body to leap into the sky. The levitator was so startled by Kris’s sudden elevation that he broke concentration and couldn’t maintain the spell any more. Luke fell but Kris met him before gravity could take hold. Together they landed on the table she leaped from. Luke put most of his weight onto Kris making her feet stagger, but she did not cave. Luke’s wobbly legs made him hop off the table, but after Kris recovered from the landing lag she spiked down her sword’s scabbard in her adrenaline rush and smashed her hands together in a thunderous clap. “LET’S GO!”

All the kids sprang up gasping and or screaming from the shared adrenalin rush she just unleashed. Kris looked down at Luke while she was still standing on the table with a burning grin. “Hey Luke!”

Luke folded his arm shaking his head. “Are you _sure_ Marth can do that?”

“Oh, the only thing I taught him was his chokeslam. That man’s a monster at swordplay!” Kris was all too happy to confess. “Speaking of choking! I have some letters I’ve been handing out, and I got some from you!”

Luke scoffed as the children started to run over to the table Kris was standing on. “Don’t worry about it.” Luke ordered. “How about you spin these kids some war stories about our king-to-be while I handle playing mailman for you? It’d be the first useful thing I’ve done in months!”

The smile washed away from Kris’s face as she watched Luke walk out of the room after grabbing her pile of letters. “ _That is a very concerning word choice”_ She pondered as the children surrounded her table trying to ask her a thousand questions about Prince Marth’s other capabilities.

Not long after Luke left the classroom Lady Elice entered as if nothing happened. “Greetings class” She stated as she trotted behind her desk. The children ceased piling around and ran back to their desks. Kris was swift to pick up her sword parts and fasten them to her belt. She slid to the side of the room by the door where she saw two red stools and sat on the smallest one. Elice pulled a staff from underneath the table - a healer’s wand - which she was ready to both cast magic with and simply point at students. “Today you not undoubtedly met Kris. She will be assisting us today for our experiment. I also have an announcement to make. But before we can get to either of those things we’ll be reviewing chapters I assigned to you last week at the start of class rather than at the end today to make room for our activities. Please turn to chapter 12.”

Kris relaxed in her chair as she watched Elice in her element. “ _I guess being a good leader runs in the family”._ Her pleasant thoughts made her mind drift for some time due to Elice’s rhythmic voice. Kris let the lexicon of the princess’s words of spells and sorcery fill her mind in awe and wonder. Yet in the wonderful canvas, her mind was painting, Kris then realized that one teacher was missing in this class. She was about to leave to search for Merric - but that’s when the man entered in and sheepishly slid into the chair next to Kris. His hood was still over his head, shielding his eyes, but he looked to Kris and gave a smile. Kris chuckled as she kept her talking voice down to a whisper to not interrupt the students. “I’ve never seen you with the hood up. How regal.”

Merric huffed as he lowered the hood and messed up his light green hair. “And stuffy too”. Kris covered her lips as she grinned. Merric continued; “What do you think of the class? We couldn’t hear anything through the door so I pray they treated you well”.

Kris nod. “They’re a timid bunch, but one of them has the up and comings of a great mage. I’m sure though in time they can all surpass even your greatness, Merric.”

Merric lowered his head with a smile. “That is the goal of any teacher, I hope, that is.”

Kris nodded but then fixed her posture. “It is, but forgive me for bringing some downer news” Kris continued as she clasped her hands together. “I’m a little concerned about the safety of this space. There’s only one door, and the walls are lined with books. A single fire spell can light this place ablaze”.

Merric sighed as he narrowed his sighs at the wood floor. “We wanted a side room just to test our system. We were waiting for Marth to return before we moved everyone. If there was a fire, however, we’d all escape that one way, the door is sturdy enough to keep the fire contained in this room.”

Kris looked around the space some more, looking for any entryways assassins or the like would try to crawl in. This room lacked any windows, just an oversized closet full of books when it came down to it. “Still, my gut tells me that there’s some way something else might slip in here or hide at the very least. This doesn’t look like a spot many knights would patrol to”.

Merric dug into his pocket and pulled out a bronze key that was attached to a hoop. Kris looked at his palm and took the offering. “We’ve been very limited with who could come into this space. We’ve entrusted Cain to distribute keys to knights he trusts the most, but we kept one for your return, Dame Kris. Do know this place should be empty when we’re not using it during class time.”

Kris had a sullen smile as she clenched the key. “You honor me with your trust, Merric. Know that I forever cherish it.” She said as she placed the key right on top of her breasts for now so it wouldn’t be pickpocketed.

The lovely Lady Elice clapped her hands which was the first sound that broke into Merric and Kris’s attention. They both looked up at Elice who was still holding her hands together, and stared lovingly at Merric waiting. A few solid seconds past before the green doof realized it was time for the announcement. He skipped out of his chair as he scratched the back of her head. Elice giggled as Merric walked around Elice and stood by her side. Kris leaned back and took a large sigh. _“I can see how maybe Luke would get bored here, but for me? Wish Marth was here to enjoy this. It really be just the simple things that we fought for, huh?”_ Her simply mentioning Marth made her glance away from the whole class in thought. _"Marth... Maybe if I try relaxing more I can see that smile from him again - or his angry scorn. I need to test if...I can loosen up more around him. I think we can afford it since we're so far out of danger."_

Merric looked over his students, his program for now was small but his ambitions were high for all of them - and he knew his class shared his dream for their own personal reasons. He gathered his breath before speaking. “So Marth said yes.”

A child in the back sprang up shaking his fist in the air. “We get to have a party!”

Merric let out a windy laugh as Elice beckoned the child to sit down. “Yes we do!” Merric said as he recovered. “However before we do we must prepare for the guest to arrive - and before that, prepare for our protection.” Merric rested his hand on his tome as he channeled the magic from within.

With his other hand, he flicked at the direction of the piles of junk that Hazel brought in for them. From the heap came an assortment of stones that floated across the air and landed into the palms of each of the students. One even hovered by Kris which she nearly dropped on the floor when the spell turned off. Merric continued; “In the last month, we studied how the spirits of an element radiate with different types of apparatus - this month we will be focusing on how to channel said spirits. Fire is the most basic of the elements to conjure and we can use the spirits of fire to light flames, or in this case make things glow. Dame Kris, may you join me?”

Kris was a bit apprehensive of joining due to her ineptitude to magic, but figured this was why she was being used as a guinea pig. Elice swapped stations with Kris as the Royal Guard stood in the front of the class. She held one hand behind her back while the other was cupped in front of her with the stone in it as she awaited orders. Merric once more continued.

“The calling stones that we will be making for the knights to communicate to one another will help them identify each other at this masked ball. The stones will be packed with enough energy within them that even the mute to the magical arts would be able to summon its power. Kris, if you may, clasp onto the stone and think of the face of one of the students you met today. They should be able to hear your whisper, and their stone will glow too.” Merric instructed.

Kris closed her eyes as she curled her fist around the crude yet arm stone. She narrowed her thoughts on the young boy who was levitating Luke before, and sure enough, the said boy jumped from his chair and waved his hand that his stone was glowing. “I heard her!!” Shouted the kid.

Kris looked up with a smile as Merric nodded his head in approval before continuing. “Very good” It will be up for our capabilities to curate these stones. With me I have the ingredients that we will make our first batch of calling stones to perfect the formula”.

Right as Merric was about to float over the supplies there was a rattling on the lone door into this room. A jiggling key on a lock. All heads turned to the knight that walked into the room, armor of green and brow rich as soil. Sir Roderick was peeking in. “Forgive me, Professor Merric.” He spoke swiftly but apologetically as he was slowly opening the door. “I was told by a maid that I could find Dame-“ Yet as he was opening the door fully they saw Kris right next to Merric. “Ah, may I please have a moment of your time, commander?” Sir Roderick bowed before closing the door. Kris placed her stone on the teacher's table and left the room. As Kris was trailing behind Merric snatched his wind tome and went to follow Kris’s footsteps.

“May you please start the experiment for me, Elice” Merric looked worryingly at Elice as he exited the room right behind Kris. He entered the hallway partly into Roderick and Kris’s conversation. Both of these very exceptional knights had stiff body language and reserved tone of speaking when it was just the two of them.

“And they stated that they had personal connections with Prince Marth”. Roderick continued. “Their appearance was-“

“If I may?” Dame Kris interjected. “Was their name Dennis Monty Grail?”

Roderick blinked in surprise. “Why yes. I was about to get to that”.

“You are to escort him to Prince Marth and remain with Marth during the gathering. Have Sir Ryan at the ready with a heavy bow that can shoot through doors during said gathering. Sir Ryan will be the one to escort out the guest while you stay stationed with Marth until Sir Ryan reports back to you - then you may go about your day once the guest has left the castle grounds. My time is needed here presently but I entrust the two of you to complete my duties”. Kris plainly stated.

“But of course.”Roderick nodded in agreement. He went to depart, but a thought hit him. Seemingly uncharacteristically, he suddenly grew worried and slightly panicked. “Does Cain know that we said anything?”

Kris smiled as she waved in the air to Roderick. “He’s calm now, don’t you worry.”

Roderick gave a thumbs up but then used said thumb to point at himself. “If there’s any time you break the code of chivalry, it’s by lying and saying this is the first time you’ve seen _me_ today commander, please!” Roderick waved off as Kris planted her full palm on her chest and let out a bellowing laugh. Sighing, she wiped her eye and turned back to Merric whom she heard exit out of the class behind her. Both exchanged head nods.

“All is still and at peace?” Merric asked inquisitively.

“Yes, but you need not have joined me, Merric. You have your class to attend to.” Kris replied calmly.

Merric still smiled as he went to open the door back open for her. “It’s better to be safe than sorry”.

Before Merric could open the door they heard a chilling wind from Kris’s lungs as she next spoke. “That was a holdover, wasn’t it?” Merric hand hovered over the door’s handle as he looked over his shoulder at Kris who now had her face riddled with worry. “‘Always travel in pairs’, that’s what Jagen and my Grandfather taught me”, she paused as she averted her gaze. “I’m sorry, It’s just from how you moved, I worried you didn’t notice”.

Merric stayed stationary with only finally his hand giving way when he turned to Kris and hugged his tome. The sensitive man was repressing waves of worry at the thought to let past memories still haunt him like this. He feared he’d never be free of dread, even in times of peace. “For me it was a trio – Marth, Caeda, or Cain. The four of us were inseparable during the war.” He lowered both his arms as he meekly clenched his fist in anger. “ War of _Heroes,_ they say. As if it’s grand. At least War of _Shadows_ better fits its dark nature.” He forced on Kris with a slight fire in his eyes - a fire like Marth’s she saw earlier this day. “Tell me something, do you feel proud of what you can do? Of your capabilities?”

Kris was bewildered by his question, but as a true knight, she attempted to respond. Her eyes adventured about, searching for a response. But the more she explored her mind the more of the yelling of battle raddled her ear; of friends betraying her to kill her Marth, of an army a masked hive mind of warriors attempting to overwhelm them with axs and screams, to the stumbling bodies of foot soldiers and in the highest mountain tops crunching blood-soaked snow. She clenched her eyes as she drew in her heavy breath. “ _Immense_ pride”, her pained words decaying after she forced them out. “I used to fight nonstop. The thrill of battle used to be the only thing that made my heart beat, Merric. But Marth…” Kris drew a breath as she was able to tolerate the pain of war’s past. “Marth gave me something to believe in. Even if the histories change his story to paint him as some godly force - a man of war - nothing will change that he fought for his kingdom, and that story will give people hope. I gave up my place in history because I know others in the future will need his warmth. That is why I fought so hard. That is why the rumors are so grand. I knew this is what I wanted to happen, as soon as Caeda flew all that way to us and told us that Hardin invaded our homeland.”

Merric stared intently at her, the entire time his hands on his tome to secretly channel the spell to read her emotions through her breath. His eyes twitched in guilt, and his brow furrowed in sorrow. _“Maybe you are not like Caeda, but I feel that I was too hasty to judge you. I only hope that others can see through you, too.”_

The door being Merric slowly crept open with Elice peering into the hallway. “Merric?” she shyly said. “May I speak with you. And Kris? May you watch the children as they prepare themselves? Please tell us if a fire accidentally starts”.

“Of course M’Lady”. Kris was once again neutral, repressing the bleeding heart she was just showing to Merric. She walked robotically past Merric, whom from the corner of Kris’s eye was walking back with a scorn on his face and held his hand over his mouth. Kris walked past Elice through the wide-open door. Kris stood right at the door’s frame as a diligent guard would so she could immediately exit out when the forwarded emergency happened.

“No Merric, it’s not about that.” Elice confessed as she walked out - the door closing behind her. “But I am worried about something.”

Kris pushed on the pommel of her sword’s hilt. As the “head” of the sword went down, the seesaw motion pushed the tip of her sword up and stopped the door from closing. Gripping the guard of the sword’s hilt she twisted the flat blade gradually so she could not only listen in but watch their conversation. She glared at them from over her shoulder like a predator and used their lip movements to fill in the mental gaps of their conversation.

“What is it that worries you, my zephyr angel?” Merric asked slowly, his worry growing more apparent as Elice stopped in front of him clasping her hands above her chest.

“It’s just, I’m having second doubts about the ball” Elice confessed. “If Marth is recovering as Kris said - maybe he could find someone without us pushing him along like this.”

There was a thud in Kris’s chest as she zoomed her sights on them more intently.

“Elice…” Merric spoke warmly. “It’s not like you to falter like this. If I can announce our love then you can stay strong in this too.”

“You’re right” Elice hugged herself. “The last thing I want is to have a repeat of King Anri, where his own brother - our great grandfather -had to take over due to a lack of an heir. I just selfishly hope this ball helps him find his new Caeda. But most of all, I just want my brother happy for himself - not for us.”

A pop erupted next to Kris’s lungs.

“Even if he doesn’t find anyone at the masquerade ball, it’d still be an opportunity for him to exit his shell - and it’d be our wedding night.” Merric held out his arms to Elice. “Don’t ever forget who both Marth and I fought to protect, twice”. He nodded with a somber smile.

Elice took a shaky sigh as she walked forward and embracedMerric and clung to his tunic. Merric petted her head as he used the winds from his tome to sooth her breathing to keep her from crying. “I don’t want our children to rule, not after what it did to him.” Elice murmured.

“I know” Merric lipped, the breath from his nostrils implying the words he spoke that blew past Elice’s ear.

At a slow pace, Kris let her sword slip out of the door and stared at the individual vans of the wood grain on the floor. The sound of war and the villagers' pleas cried one ear, while the other heard only a rapid drum as if it was railing hail on a canopy. Kris’s nails rubbed the fabric that wrapped around her sword’s neck to even her breathing and soothes the sounds slowly. Yet as she was able to filter out the ever-recurring night terrors,a raw hatred remained.

_“Why do I feel ‘envy’?”_


	5. Practicing for what comes after the Box Step

Twilight set upon the Altea. Even on a normal day there will still be many about the castle - let alone the day that Marth returned and a ball was to be announced. In one of the tall spires however that escaped the hustle and bustle of the crowds was the Prince's private bedroom. It was protected by several other taller towers so the windows were limited. But what views it did have were undisrupted by the castle’s architecture. It had a wide view of the training grounds directly underneath and the countryside of rolling hills and small mountains that Marth could take in from his walkout balcony. The gold sun gave Marth’s room a creamy hue. Though the room had the standard trappings of a ‘royal man’s room’; a vanity, desk, chairs, king-sized bed - it was relatively modest all things considered. Compared to the wealthiest inns in the land, his cream wood furniture would be outclassed by the innkeepers' lavish reds, golds, and greed.

The only thing that was deemed breathtaking was Marth’s armament stands holding an assortment of blades he used, and his various sets of armor that he donned as a boy - and as a man. The showcase keystone of his display was a trio of three weapons; His blue-tinted rapier showed much battle wear. It was placed flawlessly in its display rack. Near Marth’s rapier was a blade still in its decorated blue sheave was a golden-handed sword with a stunning red jewel embezzled in the grip. Despite the blade being of a higher quality and in pristine condition compared to the rapier it was treated seemingly with less care - it hung on its display as a hat. It was only due to the frequency that Marth had this sword attached to his belt that a stranger would be able to deduce the importance of this particular blade. The largest of his display weapons was far too long and narrow to be a sword. It resembled the shape of a spear. Yet there was a velvet red cloth that draped over the spear to hide it from the world. Only its silhouette gave away that it was a spear.

Sitting on opposite sides of the cream toasty room was the Prince and his Royal Guard. They were unwinding from the day. The Guard favored Marth’s office desk and sat backwards on the comfortable wooden chair. She rocked back and forth on the feet of the sturdy seat. Marth lounged in his vanity chair crossing his legs as the two caught up about their first day back home.

Marth’s Royal Guard skipped and scrambled about her plot points about her thrilling tales of academia“Oh! And I forgot to bring up then I came in seeing Luke floating in the air.”

Marth rubbed his chin with fascination; “Flying? His student’s unlocked the power of flight?”

“More like a bath bubble, but one that does not fall”, Kris explained.

Marth huffed out a smirk as he covered his shining grin with the back of his hand till he could calm down. “Okay. That explains why you told me to get a blunt sword for demonstration when it’s my turn to go.” Marth smoothly slid his hand away from his face as he talked. “You made it sound like Luke was climbing up the bookshelf because he was scared of the students.”

Marth’s Royal Guard started to ninny and wheeze like a horse, as she made her chair rock like one too. Marth rubbed his forehead with a gypped grin as he continued. “And I mean, I could see that happening. I had to get him out of that tree after that bar wench chased after him with a pike back in Macedon. I didn’t want to say that you were _wrong, Kris_. I was just amazed that it _happened twice_ ”. Marth looked back at Kris who was still hollering up a storm and he broke into snickering laughter too.

There was a pitter-patter of feet running up the long staircase to Marth’s bedroom that was accompanied by the rattling of metal-like armor. As Kris was laughing Marth pivoted his head to the door - attention as sharp as a meerkat- his sword hand clenched his ash black trousers. Marth stopped laughing. The more he listened through his Royal Guard’s laughter, the better he was able to differentiate the sounds - the metal was simply silverware and plates jittering on a platter. Marth exhaled as he sat properly in his chair and could only stare at his bedroom door. Marth’s eyes fixated on the bronze handle to his bedroom opening. In his past, it was opened with violence with enemy forces attempting to kidnap him when he was a boy. But here today it only wiggled awkwardly while the clanking of the sounds painted a comical tale. He heard heels clicking on the floor with attempts to open the door with their feet rather than their hands. Though crewed, none of the attempts were particularly violent nor bombastic. Marth closed his eyes and focused on the sun heating his back as he was taking gentle breaths. Marth waited for a few more seconds for their third guest to try to get the door open by themselves before he got up from his chair and walked over to the door.

As Kris was struggling to recover from her laughing session, Marth waited for a pause in the person’s attempts before he opened the way. Hiding behind the grand reveal was Hazel, the new maid facing away from the door. In both of her hands were individual platters protected by a silver top that held Marth’s meals for the evening. She was bent over with her dainty rear up in the air facing Marth’s door and did a light bunny hop to attempt to snag the door handle with her butt cheek.Rather than cold metal and wood, she connected with, she rubbed up against silk and fabric. Hazel paused, cocked her eyebrow at the different texture she felt, raised her head at the budding stiff warmth she was feeling, glanced back - Prince Marth’s face and body bloomed like a flower in the morning. Hazel artfully twirled on her heels like a figure skater and stopped her spin with a squeak of her shoes leaving a mark on the floor. She stared at the prince as the sunset behind him allowed the god rays to shine past his tall standing figure.

“Your highness - I’m sorry!” She softly hiccuped as she made eye contact. Said eye contact drifted down following the gold trimmings of his tunic, then made a sharp right turn to the blank wall. “Where’s Dame Kris’s abode?”

“I believe this is the correct area you were sent to, Miss.” Marth said with a relaxed smile. He reached out and took both the platters from her. She went to protest, but _this was the crowned prince_ after all. She was more amazed that he kept smiling. “Would you like to join us? You seem winded”.

Hazel eyes sparkled like the stars that were starting to sprout in the sky as she drew in her breath, but said shine swiftly dulled as she held a scorn. “No, there’s still work I’ve been instructed to do before bed.”

“Oh, the food’s here! Hi Hazel!!” Kris shouted as she leaned over on the chair - which was swiftly followed with a crash as she landed face-first on the floor. Marth clenched his eyes as Kris ate shit, and he went to exhale a venting huff, but when he went to bid Hazel farewell he saw that she was squatting on the floor and talking to Kris from in-between his legs. Forced to hold two hot platters above his head, the king of bounded fools was sandwiched between the two queens of opportunity as he remained still for their conversation to conclude.

“There you are, I’ve been looking for you! His majesty has your meals. A hearty stew, just as you ordered. There's a lid tied to it to prevent spilling and to keep it warm, so I hope you have an edge on you” Hazel said as she rested her hands on her bent knees.

“I can see that, thank you!” Kris said as her cheek acted as a pillow on the cold tile. She bent her foot back and pulled out a simple carving dagger she kept in her boot. She flipped the butterfly blade and showed its sharp edge in the sun’s warm rays. “A true knight must be prepared for anything!” Hazel was more dazzled by Kris’s readiness than even encountering Marth seconds ago. Seeing the warm blush across her face made Kris huff out in pride. She flicked the blade close, rested her fingers on top of it on the floor. “Maybe a true maid should be prepared, too?”

Kris flicked the switchblade over to Hazel but the blade missed its mark and hit the wall next to the door. Marth stretched his foot out to drag it in the clearing and then gently punt it to the goal post that was Hazel. The blade was able to get a bit of hang time by Marth’s kick, and it landed into the net that was Hazel’s skirt. Hazel picked up the switchblade and admired its rustic finish.“I’ll take great care of it, thank you Kris!” Hazel breathlessly shouted as she hugged the dagger close to her chest. “But Dame Kris, I must ask a request. Would it be okay if we could meet when it’s tea time rather than at the crack of dawn? It’d be easier on me”.

“Noon? Sure. See you then. Thanks for the food!” Kris shouted once more as she finally got up from the ground to fix her chair. Hazel did a swift bow to Marth before running back to her duties. Marth hissed from in-between his teeth as he started to bounce on his toes and waltzed back into the room.

“It’s hot” Marth whimpered out as he extended his arm out to Kris to take the lid-covered platter.

“Stop wearing _fingerless_ gloves then, _Marth_ ” Retorted his guard with a playful smile as she took her platter and placed it on his desk.

“I _like_ feeling things with my _fingertips_ , _Kris_.” Marth sang back as he danced to his vanity tabletop and sat back down all in one swift motion. Marth removed the platter’s wide bowl lid from his handle and underneath the platter was a bowl the size of a small house cat with a plate tied to the top of it with twine and a long loaf of bread torn in two. The exposed sides of the bread were hardened by the air as requested of Marth’s to his liking. To free his stew from its wrapped prison, Marth reached over to the golden sword and pulled it from its decorative blue sheave - like an artist passively grabbing for a brush. the sword’s ivory sword glittered with an unnatural yet kindly hue as its blunt edge turned to razor-sharp at the Prince’s touch. He used his enchanted sword to cut the gift-wrapping of his meal. Kris was tapping her fingers as she stared at her own platter - already had attempted to undo the knot and chew it off herself. She looked over at her shoulder back at the prince whom was already enjoying his meal.

“Sire, may you please give me one of your points?”

“The point of existence is to plant as much love a lone man can in his life and watch it sprout, from my personal perspective that is.” Marth retorted while he was shoveling his first meal in thirty-six hours down his gullet.

His Royal Guard, who was equally as starving from their travels, moaned and whined. “Marth, come on, let me use one of your swords. I don’t want to just smash the plate!”

“You could use my Falchion”, Marth said as he pointed his spoon over the ivory sword that hung now on the side of his desk like a raincoat.

“I’m not going to use the heirloom of Altea’s royal lineage to free my stew! Besides, it only gets an edge when you hold it!” Kris gawked.

“Perhaps if you wore _fingerless gloves_ like I do you could feel out the edge better.” Marth hummed.

“We’re both wearing _fingerless gloves_ , you _stupid man_.” Kris pointed out as she marched over to his weapon rack. “I’m helping myself.”

As Marth’s face was brimming in warmth from both his meal and their ever-natural banter, Kris examined his wears and chose one to her pleasure. Her eyes went to the velvet red cloth that draped over a spear and went to reach for it. “Don’t touch that one”. Marth cut in. He did not make eye contact with her as he was looking down at his meal.

“Why not?” Kris said hesitantly with a worried pout adorning her puffy lips.

Marth’s tone was as dry as the bread that scratched the roof of his mouth. “That’s Caeda’s Wingspear”.

Kris watched Marth sigh as he stared at his own reflection in his stew. Both of them wilted - and Kris wondered in thought. With her heart beating nervously she reached out and held the rims of the velvet heavy cloth. “I just… Don’t you think it’s a shame she can’t be here to least see us eat? Or see the sunset? All she can see is darkness because of the cloth you have over her.”

Marth furrowed his brow in a confused scowl as he leaned back in his chair facing Kris. “What’s your quandary?”

Kris sighed as she now only held one hand on the cloth. “My grandfather said a warrior puts his soul into the weapon that they own. As I grew up, I understood that he was only attempting to teach me that you are meant to view the sword as an extension of your arm to better control your swing…. But the practical advice was woven into such a strong symbolic meaning that I can’t help to think of it to be true.” Her hand pointed to the rapier. “I’ve only ever seen you use that one for shadow sparring, but I can tell from the nicks in the handle that you used it during the first war.” Her hand pointed to the Falchion that was relaxing next to him. “And you take that stick near everywhere with you.” The bottom of Kris’s eyes shakes as a scorn of worry was burned onto her face. The sun rays glimmered around her figure from Marth’s view. The angle that the light was coming in gave away that she was fighting back tears - her little belief truly meant this much for her. “Shouldn’t she be free?”

There was a warm hollowing in Marth’s being. His body grumbled and passively encouraged Marth to dismiss Kris’s plight to go back to eating, but his right mind kept his internal beast in place. He broke eye contact as he looked at the spear frowning. “I think she’d be quite mad with me if we let her out only now.”

“And the alternative?” Kris attempted to smile, which did make Marth huff out a small bit of laughter.

Marth paused as he attempted to firmly plant his confidence on Kris’s solid foundation. “You can remove the cloth, for now - and you can use her too.”

Kris gasped with a smile coming across her face. “What made you change your mind?”

“‘What’s the point of a book if you don’t read it?’, that’s what Merric would always say to me. A blade only collects dust if it’s not used with that mindset too, I think anyhow.” Marth was able to say with a somber smile. Kris was smiling ear to ear as she wiped a tear from her eyes.

Kris was ever so gentle as she took the velvet cloth off and folded it into a triangle to place it on the bed. The Winspear had a few decorative silver wings protruding out of the main edge of the blade, but its shaft sparkled with a decorative blue hue. Kris was ever so slow as she lifted up the spear and walked back to her side of the room. Marth watched through the mirror on his vanity Kris using the edge of Caeda’s spear to cut through the rope that bound the plate on. Kris went to return the spear, but then the steam from the plate sliding off of her bowl reached for her face, caressing it so. She evermore slowly placed the spear respectfully on the ground, held the bowl by the sides, and shoved her head into it like she was bobbing for apples. Only when her face was firmly in the danger zone did she grab for the bread and spoon to aid her on her conquest to chug her meal. Though Marth had a head start and was halfway done with his food - they both finished around the same time. Kris used her spoon to scrape off the soup that was around her face while Marth opted for the slightly more classy option and used his last bit of bread. Both of them huffed and heaved once their battle was done like the true warriors they were.

Marth lounged in his chair basking in the sun like a grizzly bear drying its fur from the salmon-filled waters. A simple mechanical warmth flowed through his blood - a simple meal brings a simple joy. Kris slugged herself from her chair and picked up Caeda’s spear. She cradled it in her arms as she went to put it back into its display rack with the others next to Marth, but she stopped herself as she stared at the empty shelf. After a moment of consideration, she turned her weight to walk over to Marth’s bedside next to the Prince and sat on the side. Resting the butt of the spear on the ground, Kris hugged the pole in her arms and used it to rest her weight on. She rested her eyes letting the meal go through her system. Bound to the same digestion shackles that she was, Marth watched Kris hug Caeda’s spear as the sunset behind her back. A simple peace brings a simple bliss.

“Have you been having the night terror flashes, perchance, as I have today?” Kris finally asked as she exhaled - the swaying dust illuminated by the sun twirled about as she spoke. “I’ve been as thick as wet parchment when it comes to it. Just a few stray questions then….Bam, your muscles are stiff as stone… You?”

Marth nodded his head. “Just now I had another one. The sound of the maid coming in was a bit much for me to handle.” Marth scratched the back of his head with a nervous grin, “Maybe we should restrict the types of masks we see at the ball so that we don’t end up scaring each other”.

Kris snuggled Caeda’s spear into her exposed shoulder as she grin; she started to copy one of their old enemies’ talking patterns who wore a mask. “ Yes-yes-yes?”

Marth responded in his own voice, but copied the talking hick. “No-No-No”.

Marth and his Guard were able to share a hushed laugh about the past - the said laugh was as effective as the red veil over Caeda’s spear - yet it worked for now to ease their anxieties. For Kris, however, others started to spring up. She started to tap her fingertip on the spear. “I… Don’t think this ball is that good of an idea - and no it’s not a security issue.” She was very quick to clarify. She gripped Caeda’s soul more as she shoved her thick thighs together. “I feel that the intentions behind it may not be _pure,_ My Prince”.

“Do you have evidence, or is it just a hunch?” Marth asked with an ever calm smile. Kris responded only with averting her gaze, for the knowledge she gathered was not done so in a very chivalrous way. Her silence allowed Marth to continue his thought. “I ask that because my gut is telling me the same thing.” Kris looked up at Marth as Marth wiggled in his chair and firmly grasped onto the armrests. “Merric said something to the kin of; ‘a great opportunity, _even for you_ ’. I couldn’t get that out of my head. Merric was always one to wear his heart on his shoulder, so I kept thinking it perhaps meant more.”

Kris sighed as a full frown rained down her face. “They are giving up their wedding just so you can have _a chance_ to meet another lover.” Both the heroes stayed silent long enough to hear the knights fighting in the training grounds directly underneath Marth’s tower. Kris finally looked up and saw Marth having a wide yet tired smile.

“I’m okay with that,” Marth said, and before his Royal Guard could get up and arms about protesting that - Marth made eye contact with her to silence her. Marth’s ever-present calm aura remained still. “If something happens that night, then it happens. As long as they are just as happy about the ball, then so will I. Do you think they will be from what you overheard?” Marth already deduced how she was able to gather this information for him.

Kris gave a long-drawn sigh as her eyes searched for the response. “I think they still view it as their big day.”

Marth stood from his chair and made his way over to Kris’s side and sat next to her. “Then I think it will be okay.” He gently toyed with Caeda’s spear to loosen it from Kris’s grasp so that it’d be stretched across both their laps. “A little trick like this would be something Caeda would be head over heels for if Merric was in this same spot as me.” Marth suggested as he gently pushed the spear out of Kris’s hands, but kept it right at the cusp to give her the option to let go of it or to cling on. “I trust my family. It’s how I’m still here today. I hope you can trust them too as if they were your own.” Kris rubbed her thumbs on the spear as she weighed her options. Nodding she surrendered the spear to Marth, which he walked back to its display rack. He took the time to get the aliment just right as Kris flopped her back on Marth’s bed.

“So what do you even _do_ at a ball?” She admitted as she huffed out air like a whale.

Marth’s fragile focus was decimated as he looked down at Kris who was making snow angels on his sheets. “You don’t _know_ ”?

“I only read about them in a book, and I wasn’t even supposed to _have_ that book.” Kris did a curled up as she started to talk with her pointer fingers. “You have two fighters and they twirl around - stuff happens - he, I think, bends her over backwards? Then goes for the finishing touch” Her two index fingers tapped after miming what she thought was dancing. “Gotta say, my grandfather slapped me when I tried to do the finishing touch on him when we sparred - and I was only able to get the finishing touch on his cheek. I was aiming square for his face like the combat manual instructed”. She was so caught up in the memory that she only recognized now Marth was sitting back in his chair. His arms were crossed and his whole body was shaking. “…Sire?”

Marth pulled his upper body up like a drawbridge which showcased his cherry-red face as he was repressing his hollering laughter. His hand moved in a chopping motion as he struggled to get his full thought out. “Did you _think-_ ”. Marth was stopped by Kris’s bashful laughter.

“I don’t think I thunk’ed hard enough, Marth” She said while covering her red smiling face.

Drawing an uneasy breath, Marth hunched back over to look Kris. “Did you think that _Merric_ was going to _try to_ beat up Elice at this ball?”

There was a pause before Kris spoke through her shaking smiling lips. “Why else would we all have to wear masks?”

Marth was able to breathe through his laughter and had a wide smile. “No, that’s not what a ball is.” He sat up and clasped his hands together. “A ball is just a social event where you waltz-”

“What’s a waltz?”

“It’s a type of dance you do with a dancing partner.” He stood up from his chair and walked to the open space of his room. He held his arms out as if he was already holding an invisible partner. Kris trailed her eyes down from his ridged arms, then fixated on his footwork. Marth continued as he mocked a set of simple moves; “It’s not as bombastic as Phina’s was on the field. It _can_ be a slower dance in comparison. Not saying that it _is_ a slow dance”. Marth’s boots seemingly blurred into smear of black as he did a tight twirl before halting his spin with a clap of his heel. Kris’s eyes were shaking at the display before she panned up to her new self-appointed dance master with anticipation. Marth continued to instruct as he held his inflexible ending pose as he smiled at her. “But many who do not know its complexities see it as a slow dance. My father even forced me to continue to learn how to dance even on a broken foot, and I was-“

“Can you teach me?” Kris puffed from her slightly open lips. Her hands gripped onto the bedsheets. “I want you to teach me how to waltz!”

A single pulse from Marth’s heart made his face flash from peach to scarlet red - and each consecutive pulse just made his smile grow larger. However, there was a single seed of dire dread that loomed over him. He looked over at Caeda’s spear, then just at the armaments at large that adorned his wall. With a calculating eye he was analyzing his room with the same military precision he had for battle. “This room is a little too small, _for you,_ I fear. I can see you messing up badly or shoving me. We don’t want you to get hurt.” Marth mumbled absentmindedly as he was walking circles. Marth directed his attention back to the armament wall and was pointing to it as he marched. “ _Yet,_ if we move everything that’s on this wall - and maybe even the vanity to the hallway - push the bed back - _then maybe.”_

His thinking track was stopped when he heard a rattling of metal from Kris. Marth turned and saw Kris lounging back on his bed with a very coy look on her face while twirling Merric’s classroom key around her finger. _“_ I know a private spot” Kris the sly cat. The spinning key made Marth’s smile grow tenfold.


	6. As Time Goes By

After Kris open the door for the prince to let him walk into the classroom she went to join his side. Marth however sleekly pivoted and walked back to the door, and plucked the key from Kris’s hand with a simple tug of his fingertips. He tripled checked if the door was locked. Seeing his caution partly bewildered her but also humored her all the same. He gazed back up at her with a smile as she folded her arms. “I’m going to need that key back, but I guess you can hold it for now.”. Kris turned around and looked at all the empty space they could have if they used a bit of teamwork to stack the heavy wood tables to the walls. “You want to help me move this stuff? My body’s still a bit tired after today.”

Marth pocketed the key as he walked around her to stand in front of her. “I’m positive that we’ll only need the little alleyways between the desks for our first dance.”

Kris noted that Marth was standing closer than usual so she took a step back from him. “You seem rather confident in that deduction, Sire”

Marth raised his right hand out to the side of him with his cupped palm facing the sky. “Half of this dance is about confidence, Kris.”

Marth stayed static as the wide-eyed Kris scanned over his body. Marth let her approach him at her own pace to not overwhelm her. She reached across her body to his right hand, and that was only when Marth corrected her. “Other hand”, he softly whispered while closing his eyes so he didn’t intimidate her with his eye contact. Kris jerked her hand back hearing she made an error and looked at Marth, yet her shaking stopped when she saw that he wasn’t looking at her at all. Finding stability in her free-range she attempted to hold his right hand.

Marth kept his right hand cupped as Kris rested her middle, pointer, and ring finger in the pool of his palm. The trio of fingers were hesitant to rest into his still hand. She awkwardly curved and felt around the rim of Marth’s palm. “Take your time” Marth requested more directly of her.

The encouragement to inspect his hand eased her stress as her investigation of his palm became more focused. She was feeling out his palm as if it was a new part of gear she was about to wear for hours on end. “Thank you”, she replied back. Marth wasn’t moving any closer and his hand was too far away, so Kris surrendered the step back she made before and was back to standing near toe to toe with Marth.

_"We've held hands before, yet, why is this intimidating to do?"_ She thought as she struggled to control her breathing. _"Confidence...I just need to keep thinking with confidence, as he said. I need to do this right for him."_

She now had all 4 fingers tips resting into the curve of Marth’s palm. To encourage her to move, Marth closed a few of his fingers to tap on Kris’s fingertips. She however mistook this as a signal to pull back her hand and started to slowly retract. To tell her to stay, Marth stretched his thumb over to connect with his ring finger, making a circle, which her fingers touched the bottom ark of them. Marth only went back to his ridged cupping when Kris’s fingertips landed back into his palm - then tapped on her fingertips again. This time, rather than pulling back her fingers, they scooted forward like little inchworms across his palm. It took several dozen of tappings to encourage Kris to crawl across, but eventually, the two were finally cupping hands together. He congratulated her by clasping upon his grip on her.

Kris tensed up feeling Marth hold her tighter. _"I...I just want him. I don't care if I do this right. I just want to be with him right now. I need him."_ The squeeze on her hand made her coo out a low moan.

Marth whisked his head to check her face - thinking he hurt her. Marth saw Kris’s misty eyes looking only at their joined hands, and there was a subdue shaking from her arm as well. Marth’s concern eroded away and gave way for a beaming blush smile as he admired her timidity. Before he moved onto the next step of holding her he tightened the muscles in his neck to subtly shake the love that was radiating off of his face. Marth placed his right hand on the curve of her back which forced them both to take one more baby step forward to one another. Right now the three points of contact for them where their leading hand, the hand upon her back, and the awkward silver breastplate that physically acted like a buffer between their chests.

Kris curled her head in as she couldn't repress her embarrassment. Her left sword hand was shaking as she held it just above her breasts. "M-Marth?"

Her Prince stayed silent to listen to her, but hearing nothing he opened his eyes and smiled at her. "Yes?"

The silence in the room purified Marth's voice to her and it was overpowering. She raised her hand up to her mouth and covered it. Her sword hand was now as shaking as much as his would. While she stood she was whimpering out repetitive moans and huffs. She didn't seem to have a problem holding Marth's leading hand for her left arm wasn't shaking at all. It was as if only half of her body was timid about this intimacy while the other wished to embrace it. 

Marth tilted his head as he got lost in his thoughts about her. _"The sounds she's making are so lovely, but she's clearly in pain. My poor Kris..."_

He pulled back his left hand that was cupping her back and brushed the side of her face with his nails. "Is this okay?" He asked. When he got a nod of approval, he stroked the side of her face to try to calm her down. She waited for a few strokes from him before she moved her head into his palm. In one motion he found himself cupping her face.

Her eyes were squinted in pain, and her smile was broken - but was still there. She was still trembling, but her free hand cupped the back of Marth's left hand so he wouldn't pull away from her face. Not once still did Marth feel any tugging or rejection from his guiding sword hand that was still extended out ready to dance. He still waited for her to speak with his loving blush glowing, and this time she did speak.

"This is a little...you know..." She whispered through her small huffs from her smiling lips.

"I... _forgot..._ to say that this was an intimate dance". Marth bashfully confessed.

Kris made a small moan of confusion while still having her eyes closed. "What does... _intimate_ mean?"

"It... means very close and tender," Marth responded, repressing the worry she'd reject him. His fears vanished when he saw her smile, then huffed out a laugh right after.

"Very! Very tender." She spoke in a more outdoor voice. The giggle that followed though was as soft as a feather. 

The rock that was building up in his throat disintegrated hearing that she was taking this all in stride. Smiling wide, and comforted by the fact that she wasn't looking at him, Marth found the courage to rest his forehead on her's. Her eyebrows raised to the new gentle pressure. "Is this okay?" He asked again.

There was a pause in her response to process the new feeling. She responded not with words, but with her actions. She pressed back on his head and rested her nose tip on top of his. "Keep your hands where you should be, please? I...need to learn how to get used to how you'll be holding me when we dance."

Already she was not shaking as much. Kris hooked her right hand's fingers along the lip of her breastplate as Marth went back to clasping her lower back. The two continued to kiss at their nose tips, both smiling in bliss, both resting their eyes in peace. They steadied their breathing, and both started to rest more of their heavy weight on top of one another. Kris was the first to open her eyes to peek on Marth, and he was looking as if he was a sleeping babe. Fate had it so that Marth just missed her checking in on him - but at least saw her entangled in the same tranquility.

There still waters gained ripples by Kris skipping a stone along its surface to clear her own mind. She went to speak. "Do you view me as a ... as your knight here?" The stone she attempted to skip was thrown wrong and sank to the bottom of her gut. She looked away, pulling herself from their head resting. "Sorry, was that wrong to say?"

A very contain yet gingerly moan reverberated from Marth's vocal cords hearing that question. Marth wasn't even aware he made that sound, but the signal to her was lighting a few crackling flying embers in her heart.

Marth went to skip his own stone across their tilted lakebed to see if his attempt could go further. He went to speak. "I hope that-.. uh.." His stone too, sunk to the bottom of the water. He closed his eyes and still held a smile. His sword hand twitched while balancing Kris's hand on top of his own. His left hand that cupped her back was stiff and cold. "...My words are not coming to me at this time."

A gentle campfire now crackled in Kris's heart. Her face melted, yet her smile stayed as she looked up at the patient man that was holding her. Kris lowered her head and moaned out a hum to get his attention. Marth looked down and saw Kris was lifting her forehead to him again. Any attempt Marth was taking to find the right words to say to her washed away with the current as she was offering to rest heads again. Closing his eyes, he went back to his pillow and place his nose tip back upon hers. Kris waited till she heard Marth's drift back to the stillness they had before. Once the waters were even, she threw her next stone.

"Do you want me to be your knight while we dance?" Her voice was as pleasing for Marth to hear as a far skipping stone across a twilight-lit pond.

"I don't want that at all." He whispered to her. Marth could relax his mind, as he simply waited for Kris to throw her next stone.

"Do you want me to view you as my lord while we dance?" She tossed yet another perfect throw.

"No..." He whispered back. Kris heard a groan of thought come from his mouth. He went to skip his stone. He delayed twice - thrice. His eyes were wide open as he was messing up his form. He overthought his technique and threw his next question at her rather than the water.

"Can you not view me as one at all?"

His body locked, stiff, broken. But Kris caught the stone he tossed over to her and skipped it across the pond for him.

"You're asking if I can pretend you're not a lord while we're alone together?"

Marth drew in his shaken breath as his heartbeat clicked and sizzled in his ribcage. "It would be...nice."

"May I hear why?" She asked in an innocent tone.

He struggled but was able to gather up the stone to confront his own feelings because of her. "I've been scared that I've been ordering you to do things against your will. Just now I made your lungs popped running around the castle..."

As much as Marth wilt in his confidence, Kris was there to balance it out. "I've been having a similar woe." She confessed with a smile. "We're friends, but, I find it hard to lower my guard. It feels still that if I did, I'd lose you...A guard can't guard if they're not on guard at all times..."

The thought of her failing as his knight made her head sag. The sway of their energy continues to swing as he removed his hand from her back and placed it underneath her chin to make her look up at him. His radiant smile was in full glow. "My body isn't the only thing that needs protection. I need... _you_ with me as well. Do you understand me?"

She looked him in his eyes and was able to match his tenderness in her smile. "I think I do..." She said sheepishly.

Marth then curled out his left hand from her chin to stroked the side of her face again. Her eyes widen to his gentle touch but then closed to accept his head pat. Marth continued to her with his soft tone. "The battle is over. It's not an easy transition. My first attempt to find ease was betrayed, so I know the fear that you live in." Kris gave a low moan to respond to him. Her face was in pain, but her smile stayed. Marth's petting grew in strength as if he was stroking a cat to try to rub out the anguish she was feeling. "It's your job to protect me, so it may be even harder for you. But when there is time of ease, I'd love it if-".

"Yes." She sighed, which made Marth stop petting her. Her relaxed eyes opened and looked at his chest. "I want to try to view you with no title so long as you don't see me with mine. May we try as we dance for now? I just want to see how that worldview feels like..."

Marth's heart was actively trying to be seen by Kris with how hard it was slamming itself against the wall of its cage. "O-Of course we can..." Marth smiled while he stuttered. He rolled his shoulders and puffed out his chest. He's been holding her in the proper stance to dance. "Are you ready?"

Kris raised her free right hand right into the air. "Actually, I have a question, Teacher."

Marth chortled while clicking his tongue to the roof of his mouth. "Yes, Kris?"

She made her right hand jiggle in the air. "What do I do with this hand, since your holding my other hand out, but have your hand on my back?"

Marth's blush grew as his smile sang across his face the sweetest of songs. "Would you want me to tell you that, or would you like to do your own discovery as you did with your first hand placement?"

Kris rocked on her toes as she looked around Marth's whole body. "Oooh, I love figuring things out!" 

Marth had to bite his bottom lip when she was looking away so he didn't accidentally squeal at how cute she looked to him right there. He sighed to gather his thoughts. He closed his eyes and started to rock Kris from side to side, they were simply swaying in place. "This is just to build our rhythm," Marth instructed as he let Kris explore his body.

She searched for a place to land her grasp as Marth took his time to steadily rock their bodies from side to side.Kris impishly peered at Marth’s face as she was aware at the embarrassingly amount of time it was taking her to even get into the starting position. Marth simply had his chin pointed down, his eyes closed, and a blushed smile. Kris tugged her head down into her chest as she continues to marvel at him. Her mind drifted into thoughts. _"...Not as my lord, but as a man I must see him as.... Well... He is quite dashing and strong. Kind too ..but... my favorite part about him is what he keeps pent up inside. I like helping people, so to help him at his lowest is helping a stranger a thousandfold."_

Her shoulders curled up as she sighed out a moan. _"I hope that he...I wonder if he...Can he even see me as... something more?"_

Kris picked up another stone and attempted to skip it across the waters from her shoar. The sound of her gentle words so tenderly close to his ear made Marth fight back from consistently grinning in front of her.

“Has the world felt different to you since peace has been starting to settle in?” Kris asked as she started to drift her hand down to the groove of Marth’s elbow that held her back. Her fingertips crept along the trenches of the muscular layout of his arm. The innocent exploration of Marth’s right arm put all of Marth’s mental and physical restraints on his external motions to the penultimate test. For now, the only fault in his character was a puff of air from his nostrils. Marth had to ignore her question and think only of himself for the time being.

Marth attempted to amuse his inner demons and allowed his thoughts to drift about as Kris stroked his arm with her fingertips. He was letting the dogs out for a walk in the hopes that they'd be calm when he locked them away again in the depths of his mind. “ _When there wasn’t a thought about my kingdom buzzing in my head, I’ve been only thinking about her all day. We’ve been traveling six months alone, yet now and only now I want to see you more as a friend? Why couldn't have this happen sooner when we had all that time alone? Why here and at home with so many judgmental eyes? How can I even find out if you feel this feeling too? Maybe I can feel it when we dance... Naga please, guide my hand.”_

Kris’s free hand navigated her way up the channels of his body up to his bicep that was always half obscured by the folded and button-up sleeve of his tunic. With Marth having no armor equip for he gave it away this morning for porcelain, Kris discovered that it was effortless to dig her hand underneath his clothing so she could clasp onto his bicep. She groped the fat so she could feel the sturdy guardrail that was his toned harden muscles that lay right underneath his skin. The natural tightness of the tunic acted as a seatbelt for Kris’s groping so it was near effortless to maintain the same rather tight grasp she had on his upper arm.

Both dancers were finally in the basic holding positions for the dance and were swaying like a weighted down metronome.

The only things Marth could think about was continuing to sway, keeping his expression the same, the Kris’s irking breastplate grinding uncomfortably against his chest, and how tenderly she was holding him. “Sorry; may you repeat your question?”, Marth admitted in a normal clear tone.

“Are things different between us now?” Kris accidentally let slip from her lips. Her own thought dogs escaped from her leash’s control. Marth’s body continue to hold her in the starting position - their weight still rocked from alternating sides. Only blockades of Marth’s external expression failed from his neck up.

Marth jerked his head to look wide-eyed at her, to read her, to see her, to hold hope that the mutual feeling of budding love he felt was true. Yet he saw only what he seen when he clasped their guiding hands together - the side of her cheek and her misty eyes as she stared only at their leading cupped hands. The fog - the inability to read her regal neutrality - vailed her in a clouded mystery. Part of himself was frustrated, but the rage was muffled by an overwhelming wave of enchantment - one powerful enough where Marth couldn’t simply snap back to his smiling face. He looked over Kris’s shoulder at the chalkboard that was scribbled on by his sister’s and brother-in-law’s writing as he puzzled out his response to her.

“I want to think so, yes.” Marth spoke plainly, yet with a decaying volume. “I was scared you’d didn’t-“ The prince’s words cut off as Kris lightly stepped on his left foot - just as softly as he was tapping her fingertips just before. Marth glanced down around her silver breastplate to see Kris attempting to take another step closer but pulled back. She then shuffled so that their bodies were no longer lined directly on top of one another. She could now rest her foot in-between his two feet as they continued to shift their body weight. The cold breastplate compressed against his ribcage which made his skin crawl. Kris then rested the side of her head on Marth’s rightsholder and pushed down more of her body weight on Marth’s guiding right hand. The heavier bouncing of their ship to Marth’s right made his head rest on her ponytail as if it was a pillow. The same resistance that Marth had to Kris when she was guiding him to lay his head on her lap was present here too. Only when Marth kept his head on her hair did Kris stop rocking the boat and ease back into the steady metronome they were maintaining before.

“Don’t be scared”, she whimpered. Her hand that was resting on his left bicep slid underneath his clothing. The further she went up to his left shoulder, the higher his adam's apple raised and the tighter his stomach sucked in. Only when Kris settled on grasping his shoulder could he gulp and exhale. She pressed on his sweating skin in a clock-like pattern with her fingers. “I will never do anything to hurt you”.

Marth’s ability to keep the rocking was starting to falter, but by now Kris was able to pick the slack since she had enough time to spot the tempo he was once keeping them at. Marth could not hide the weakness in his voice as he croaked out his single-worded reply. “Kris…”

Hearing the meekness in his tone made her body reflexively attempt to comfort him more. She slid his hand up to his rolled-up sleeve and slid down his left arm. She clasped on his left wrist that has been stiffly holding her back this entire time. Guiding his hand down the side of her body she flicked open her tunic to reveal a sliver of her midriff. Though Marth couldn’t see it at all due to the frustrating silver slab of metal that was strapped onto her breasts, Marth still felt her pushed his hand to spread out and allowed his hands to explore underneath her orange tunic. Once she was confident he understood the restricted areas he wasn’t allowed to explore to with a few clear and carefully time-aided nudges, she slid back up his left sleeve. Rather than just press down on his shoulder, she now stroked his whole left arm. His fingertips were sliding against the fat of her belly and skin. This was the first intimate moment since Lore Gotoh pet him at the war’s end - nay - the true first close human contact he felt since Caeda’s death.

Marth did not feel his heart pulsating like before - half of his entire blood went into his guiding hand - his right hand - his sword arm. His sword hand began to tremble. The rest of his blood that was pumping from his heart had to be rationed out evenly. Marth’s cold fingertips pinched Kris’s skin. No amount of body heat was defrosting his left hand’s fingertips. Marth watched her nuzzle her head into his collar bone, but he did not feel even his veins be pinched by the added bodyweight. He was aware that he was shifting from side to side, but it only felt like he was back in the carriage - he was still, and the world was moving around him. Marth knew he was in a classroom, but he saw only a void. His soul thought that he yearned for this, but this brought him no joy.

Yet in the corrupting chaos that enveloped him, where he’d normally be alone in his thoughts, he couldn’t shake the feeling that there was still someone with him for once. The outline that was Kris’s body to him still lingered, and he was able to dance away from the pits of hell yet again the image of her only grew more clear - not once did it ever fully disappeared. Here they were, swaying from side to side. While in his memory played the night that Altea burned, he could still visualize himself dancing with her in the middle of the muddy rainy roads. The shaking in his hand would have stopped if this was his only pain - if the world was his only sorrow. The simple flashing memory of Caeda’s smile when he got to hold her just like this brought a second of bliss - but knowing that she was gone made him trip over into hell.

Marth began to clench his sword hand. “ _I’m sorry, Caeda.”_ Marth continued to think. His sword hand was curling up into a fist.

“ _This should have been you here”._ There was something in the way that was preventing him from clenching his fist.

_“But why didn’t you stay back as I told you to? I could have handled it. You didn’t need to prove anything to me!”_ The object in his sword hand was something soft - he sadly was only able to deduce.

_“I don’t care if you thought you weren’t being helpful, I needed you to stay alive! That’s all I needed you to do for me! Yet you kept throwing yourself out there thinking it’d make the battles end faster!”_ Marth attempted to crush the soft object with his superior might.

_“Why did I humor her? Why did I put her on the front lines? Why did I order her to stand there!? Why can’t I rewind time!? Not a whole day, not even an hour - just five damn seconds!! That’s all I needed!”_ The soft object transformed to a solid one under Marth’s quaking sword arm. It was rivaling his might as it was squeezing Marth back. He could calculate from this foreign object’s strength that he could overpower it with enough time. He slowly clawed a victory over the clasping struggle - as time went by.

_“Why didn’t you listen to me in the barracks?! But then you followed every order on the field?! Why were you so two-faced?! You just needed to listen to me once!!”_ The object in his sword hand kept transforming to the dismay of his aggravation. It kept changing shape to accommodate his grip and it was disrupting his grip straight from being able to surpass his. This cat and mouse game of who was more flexible vs Marth’s overwhelming strength was still in his favor \- as time went by.

_“Is this what you wanted me to do? To fall in love with someone else if something happened to you!? I knew you were flirting with half of those men you brought to my army before we engaged - I still never got a straight answer about that from you!!”_ Marth twisted his wrist forward and curled his fingers up into his palm with a might that could crush a human’s hand.

The foreign object was at a disadvantage at the sudden new position and was starting to shake under Marth’s might. It was unable to transform into as many varying shapes while trapped in this new lock. The object try to fight back Marth’s wrist, but Marth was unflinching now and focused all his trembling into simply clenching his fist. Marth begged the void to respond;

“ _How can I fall in love with Kris when I still love you?”_

For the first time since this battle started - the confession of his feelings made his grip weaken ever so. If time went by, he would pull himself out of the void himself. However, there was something that snagged his soul like a fishing hook and reeled it back into his body and into the living world - it was the sound of Kris huffing in the sliver of relief that she felt of Marth’s hand finally giving way.

Marth's mind was back in the castle, still staring at the chalkboard that was at the front of the class. In waves at the beat of his heart, he gained his senses back. Kris was swaying them from side to side still, keeping up the same slow tempo all by herself. She was pushing on Marth’s right shoulder to make his upper torso sway to the left, then tugged on his tunic’s sleeve to sway him to the right. Marth’s sweaty right hand was hooked limply on the rim of her shorts, which he respectfully and more importantly; impulsively moved back to Kris’s back. Marth felt her head still firmly planted on the right side of his chest. He could not see her expression, but he did felt the huff of air trail down his leading right arm – the arm he hurt her with - the sword arm. 

He dared not acknowledge what he just did to her as he pried away from the tangled mess that was their hands. Kris refused that he’d leave her so early and snaked her fingers around his right thumb. She held it at a strength to encourage them to stay, but he could leave if he could wish. She slowed down their swaying to a tempo that was exactly half of what they were doing before. Through his tidal wave of shame and regret, the sliver of the professionalism in him was impressed she knew how to divide their swaying measures exactly by two. With enough encouragement and love, Kris was applying to Marth’s battle scars the two of them were able to reach close to how they stood before - as time went by.

“It was just a Night Terror”. Kris spoke to not Marth directly, but to his leading right hand as if it was its own person. “I won’t hurt you”.

The thought of Kris hurting him directly made Marth want to throw up. He looked away from her as he had to swallow his own gut. The swaying that they were doing was bringing up memories of Dorros’s rocking ship. “But I just hurt you”. Marth murmured.

“Tis but a scratch” Kris replied as she used Marth’s rock-solid sword hand as a flat wall. She spread her fingers evenly across the palm of his hand as she was using him to stretch out her slightly misaligned fingers. “Tis but a scratch.” She murmured once again.

She curled her palm over Marth’s hooked fingers to stretch them back and help ease some of his stress. Marth accepted her offering and allowed her to stretch out his hand - and went to mirror her very same actions to her to aid in her recovery. As their bodies continue to only do a basic sway, their hands entered swiftly into a tightly choreographed routine. Kris’s left hand and Marth’s right hand stretched out each other's hands. They both took turns pulling on each of their individual fingers till they felt their knuckles pop. They each stretched out their thumbs and pushed on their fingertips. Marth was able to even use his superior strength to correct the last bit of damage that was done to her hand with a few well-placed grips. Both their gloves now were hot and sweaty as their steamy fingertips clasped back on their partner’s hands. They were once again holding hands at the strength they were before and even their swinging was at the older faster tempo.

Marth was still shaken, but he was able to smile again with the peachy cheeks starting to bring a splash of color to his pale face. Kris felt the calmness return back to his now sweaty palm and she clapped hands with him before allowing his thumb to wrap around her hand and nestle it right back into their loving grip. She only looked back up at him once she felt Marth was able to take control of the swaying once again.

“ _So…_ all we do is sway in place?” Kris asked with an innocent look and a cheerful grin.

Marth chortled a huff so hard he would have flung snot if there was anything up his dry nose. He was smiling ear to ear as he shook his head. “No- It’s- We don’t _just sway_ ”. His happiness was returning, but his delay in his words showed he was still trying to get his bearings.

Kris helped guide Marth so that he could guide her again. “But swaying _is_ a part of it?”

“Yes, it was…. it is - an an... _an important_ \- part.” Marth responded as he had a second to gather his breath. To finally guide her away from the door he took a singular step back in the rhythm of their swaying. Kris nearly fumbled, but the repetitive rhythm they were able to maintain, Marth’s sturdy frame, and his unending patience for her allowed her to naturally follow his first step.

Marth looked down at her with a smile as he continued to speak. “It helps establish the flow of the dance as you, the follower, are guided by the leader, myself.” Marth took another step to the side and waited for her, which took little time at all. He was then able to take a few more consecutive strides as he guided her into the middle of the classroom. “You already have good footwork thanks to your swordplay, so this should be natural to you” He paused as he looked back down at her. Her eyes were looking on the floor as she was keeping up with him. The smile that adorned her cheek was steadily growing larger. “Is it?” He questioned. Kris tucked in her chin as the blush on her face turned fully flustered. She could only moan out a yes to him as she had her eyes firmly locked onto his hand. Marth rubbed her guiding hand with his thumb.

Marth continued to instruct; “It’s as simple as walking. You’ll grow more comfortable as we do this more - as time goes by.”

The thought of being able to just stand and sway with Marth made Kris's shoulders curl up more as her own guiding hand was starting to shake. She couldn’t remove her smile. Step by step, Marth was guiding her now to the back of the classroom as the driftwood tables slowly floated past them. “I’ll walk you around the classroom, then, I could ask you how you feel about it?”

“Yeah”. Kris replied in a hushed tone. “I’m just, really focused right now. I’m sorry for not talking”.

Marth’s left hand slid up her back as he gently clasped onto the base of her ponytail. He encouraged her to rest her heavy head on his chest which she happily did so. She snuggled right into her old spot as well as a lock and a key.

“Don’t be.” Marth said. He lowered his left hand down the curve of her back as he guided her around the classroom and in-between the desks in straight and sometimes spinning lines.

Marth heard Kris whimper as she rolled her head into his chest. Her heart sang as they swam across these calm waters together. She huffed and attempted to rest her eyes. She thought to herself; _"I can't let anyone dance with you but me. I need to become the best dancer for him. I've never been held this way before in all my time ... Please I... I hope I can be your dance partner for the rest of your life. I need to do everything that I can to make you know that I need that."_

Kris made hardly any note of the hand situation from before. She understood him and was honored she could have been the one there for him.

\- - - - -

Though their bodies paced the room in silence, their minds danced to the song that was in their hearts. It was only Kris’s own fatigue that made them break their dance. If it weren’t for that, these two old soldiers could have marched on for days. Kris rested her ass on the corner of the teacher’s desk as she was rubbing her squeezed hand. Though Marth was in front of her she still kept her eyes closed. Between the two of them she was the one who was sweating the most. Though she refused to look at him she had a wobbly smile stretching across her face.

“I take it you liked it?” Marth asked as he awaited his ever silent partner to speak. Kris yet again only moaned out a yes - this time louder and with a head nod. He huffed out a laugh, but the smile he had faded as he looked at her hand. “Is it feeling better”? He asked with a frown.

Kris’s smile faded into a neutral expression, which made Marth’s hearts palpitate. But she stopped Marth’s heart attack from killing him as she extended out her damaged right hand to him, and beckoned him closer.

“ _Just this morning I told you I’m not worthy of your sacrifice. That statement was always meant to be on the grand scale…not like this - not this personal”_ Marth thought as he stared at her hand as if it was a wish-making monkey paw. He walked to her and clasped her hand with his sword hand and rubbed it generally all over. Kris kept her eyes closed as she tilted her head down to focus on Marth’s gentle touch.

“I’m sorry again.” Marth sighed as he watched her closed eyes. “ _Why is she not looking at me? Is she that intimidated to look at me?”_ Marth’s worried thoughts were gripping his mood and dragging him down. There was a pop - her lips were prying apart. Marth found himself staring at her lips so intensely that he didn’t even see her open her eyes and was glancing at the side.

“What was that word?” She pondered to herself. When the word did come to her she smiled wide and rested one finger on her lips with her free hand as she closed her eyes again to ‘look’ at Marth’s direction. “Can we - _may_ we do an encore?” She said as she slid her finger to the corner of her lips. “I think I might be getting the hang of it”.

Marth looked at her closed eyes that did express joy - as to her wide smile - but the lack of eyes to read made him swallow the spit in his mouth. “Of course” Marth responded as he pulled her off of the desk. “But…” He paused, as he attempted to interlock their holding hands together. “Why are you not looking at me?”

Her smile faltered again. “I’m…trying to learn the steps and it’s easier if I don’t think too hard”.

Marth’s gut could near always feel a lie as if it was stabbing him with a steak knife. Marth tugged her closer as he looked down at her. “Please, tell me the truth. You know I hate digging.”

Her eyes opened yet again as her sights slid to the side. As she squeezed her grip on Marth’s hand tightly she balled her spare fist to the top of her breastplate. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that.” She whispered. “Forgive me for not speaking clearly, and my rude body language, Sir- Sam- Sorry force of habit. Marth. You. I’m… I’m nervous. No one has ever held me like that before”

Marth relaxed his grip he had on her hand. “When I was squeezing you?”

Yet her hand tightened its grip on Marth’s hand. “No.” She said as she paced closer to him and rested her head on his chest yet again.

Her index finger was kissing the vain trails that tracked their way up to his bicep. Her fingers draped around his muscle and her whole palm slid underneath Marth sleeve. This time she squeezed his shoulder then massaged it in her grip. “I meant you holding me like _this._ Keeping my eyes shut helps me appreciate every movement you make. Thank you for taking this time out for me. I hope we can do this again”.

The whole sensation nearly triggered another heart attack for Prince Marth. The chill that went up his spine took a right turn and drill down to the tips of his sword hand in a very condense earthquake-like shake. Yet after the pause, he then warmly kneaded her right hand as if it was dough. His eyes were up at the ceiling as he was shooting out an exhale from his mouth. Marth had to shuffle his weight back so that one of his appendages didn’t stab her below the belt. Once the vertigo ironically steadied Marth, he reached for her back with his free hand. “We can do this every evening if you wish.” Marth hastily said.

Kris snuggled her head into his chest, her ear flicking his nipple underneath his tunic. “I would love that”, She confessed.

Marth looked down at her head. Her shut eyes were the eclipse that blocked the sun’s rays that were her smile and all the same he was blinded while staring at her. _“I can’t tell if she’s just showing her gratefulness to me or if this is flirting. Please, Naga, tell me this is flirting. Tell me that she likes me._ _PLeAsE_ _.”_ Marth’s own internal voice cracked as they prayed to god, and as normal, there was never a response.

Sucking his gut in, he went to take the first step to dance. Kris then stepped away as she tapped the air as if it were glass. “Oh, I forgot something”. She confessed as she took several steps back away from Marth. He felt his summer shift to autumn in a heartbeat.

_“I did something wrong. I ruined the encore.”_ Marth’s internal monolog lamented the death of his love life as his external acting was as stiff as a stage prop. He watched Kris stand a distance away from him as her head was turned to the side while her hands were behind her back. Her eyes were still closed and she was clearly focused on something. Trusting that she’d keep them closed, the gravity 'made' Marth drag his head down as he stared at every curve of her body.

The breastplate blocked most of the upper half of his view, so the gold trimmings on her orange tunic help guide Marth’s sights down. A slip of her bellybutton was showing from the time she tried to help him feel something. Both of his fists curled up and shook in pain. _“Why did I waste that chance?”_

Marth continued to mourn. He tried to appreciate the lone drop of sweat that grew on the rim of her riding-up shorts that trickled down the full length of her thigh like rain on a window - but the lust was being interfered with his own frustration.

“ _Why did I had to freak out like that?! She doesn’t_ _want_ _to dance with me again. She just think she_ _needs_ _to for me. I’m such an idiot! I want her to like being with me!”_ Marth shouted in the depths of his mind. An uncomfortable moan coming from Kris’s puckered lips made the Monkey Marth side of him drop all cognitive thought and look back up at her with attentiveness.

Kris gave an awkward frown as she was rocking back and forth, then huffed in dissatisfaction. She brought her hands forward and Marth’s eyes shot down to look at her hands - they were shaking like his. He jerked back to look at her face which was already turning around. The gravity once again ‘ _made_ ’ him look now right at her ass. Though her tunic’s tails blocked some of the view, there was enough to see through the cracks. Their dancing made her shorts roll up to the skin so it was quite forum fitting. Marth fixated where the fat of her thigh was being squashed by her tight-fitting shorts. He didn’t even register _why_ she was turning around for whatever reason, he was just appreciating the eye candy as it came.

“Marth - my hands are okay, first off” She said as she rubbed her hands together. “But may you help me take off my breastplate? It was jabbing underneath my breasts the entire time. I-If that’s okay with you…” She spoke calmly and clearly, but the timidness at the end was the cherry on top of her deceptively sweet cake of an offer.

Marth’s mind played only raw static - and his face was glitched out to be frozen in a scowl. He had to manually reboot himself before he even took his first step - which felt like he was walking on a bed of puppy dogs and needles. Like a lumbering giant, he meandered over in complete silence and went to unbuckle her breastplate. _“It’s only her armor. It’s only her armor. It’s only her armor. Just her armor. Nothing else.”_ He had to constantly repeat to himself internally to keep his mind from wandering.

Kris huffed out a positive puff as her chest popped out - finally free of her prison. Marth placed the silver shackle onto the desk closest to him, and he was joined by his surprise by Kris who was placing her gloves individually next to her gear. “My hands were getting sweaty.” She confessed with a smile - eyes still shut but are relaxed. She turned her head to him. “How are yours?” She questioned. Marth only replied with her to the sounds of him taking off his gloves too.She turned her hand away and was giggling up a storm. “I take that as a ‘yes’. Whenever you’re ready then”. She went to turn - her eyes still shut.

There was a ripping of fabric that roared in the still waters. A thunderclap was heard afterward as Kris slapped her ass in an _‘attempt’_ of modesty. Her bugged-out eyes fixated on Marth’s feet - thinking that her own shorts ripped. But as she groped around she realized she wasn’t the perpetrator. Her eyes trailed up, making a mental note of his stiffy, but kept going as she looked up at Marth who was locked in place. His right sword hand was trembling as he was pinching on the half-torn sleeve of his left arm. Marth’s eyes were about to fall from his sockets as he was only looking at what he just done.

_“Why did I think my sleeve was a glove that needed to be removed?”_ He thought in his void, then the realization hit him like a train _“Oh, it was because she was touching me there….”._

After his internal self was finished being bulldozed into a bloody pulp on his think track, he absentmindedly looked over at Kris who was covering her mouth and eyes in wide shock. That shock soon caved into worry as she shrunk her stance and clenched her face. As her face grew a flush scarlet, his skin was turning into ash. The only thing that rejuvenated his body from rotting there on the spot was that she stepped closer and tried to gently pull his sword hand away from his body. Marth fully surrendered control to her and she pulled his hand and started to stroke it. Her watery eyes were full of worry.

“I’m okay…” Marth tried to comfort her as she still stroked his hand.

“No, I’m sorry I got you worked up. I didn’t think you’d get _so_ excited.”The subtle of her words fail to get past the dense Prince’s skull. Taking what she said as evidence that he _only_ got excited made him roll his wide and timid eyes away as he curled into his shoulders. Kris who’s been watching him this whole time analyzed this final clue she needed. She held a soft smile as she continued to calm his shaking hand.

“Say, I have an idea.” She said leaning her to the side with an impish smile. The sly in her smile and sparkle in her eye that made his attention be a hook, line, and sinker.

“How about we break here for tonight, _but only,_ to afford us time to find outfits we can train our dancing. I think we can go for even longer if that is the case.” She held his sword hand still as she let her free hand flick his exposed shoulder nonchalantly.

“I mean, if you’re going to be ripping your clothes off and my shorts are going to be ridding up my crack, we may as well dress properly for this sparring!” She continued to keep her shimmering eye contact with him as she pulled his hand across her chest to nestle it right in the groove of her armpit. It wasn’t a dead-on grasp, but he was most _definitely_ gripping the thick fat of her breast. Yet she held his sword hand close to her as if it was a gifted bouquet of flowers.

“It would make me very comfortable as your dance partner.”

The standard friendly nature of her tone yet the provocativeness of all her actions continued to infuriate the Prince’s understanding of the world. He was left in a total state of confusion of her intentions. The mixed signals made his sword hand clench into a fist again. He felt something soft like before. However, he was used to the sensation and looked down in terror at what he was about to do again and went to pull his hand back from her. Kris gripped her Marth bouquet though, and when Marth attempted to tug away, she was forced to walk forward. His grip continued to squeeze her as she softly patted his hand to calm down. She maintained a direct and loving eye contact with him the entire time his grip strength went through its programmed execution of intensity. The only evidence that he was hurting her was that her slick belly button was rising and lowering from the lip. Soon the shaking stopped and Marth was once again cupping the side of her bosom.

“....It would make me _very_ _comfortable_ ”. Kris repeated in the same happy neutral tone, yet softer in this second verse.

Marth was a blind man after staring nonstop at his sun, but attempted to talk as if he could see straight. “ **Ye** a **h**! We. We can get changed! Tomo _rrow_!” His voice cracked, along with having no volume control.

She pulled back with a stunning grin. “Alright!” She spoke as she twirled around.

He saw her reach into her cleavage and pulled out the key to the room. She spun it on her finger as she walked out. “I’ll leave the door unlocked for you so just walk in when you’re done with dinner. We can change in this room so we don’t raise too many eyebrows. I’ll see you after work?”

The gravity _‘made’_ Marth look back down at her rocking hips and _rocking_ thighs, but the rattling of the key made him look at her giving him a side eye. Marth patted his pocket, then looked at his body as he did a full pat-down.

“ _How_ \- _When_ did you get the key from me??” He asked as he looked up at her. She was already beyond the door with it closing, but right as the door was about to separate them he _thought_ he saw a foxy smirk and wink shot at him.

The soundproof door then closed.

It was winter now in the classroom. Marth’s body heat alone was compelling the surrounding still air to turn into spring. He paced around the classroom as he dug his hands into his hair.

“I’m not hesitating”. Marth had to reaffirm himself.

“I am not hesitating like I did with her. This is not hesitating. I am NOT. HESITATING.” Marth continued to _calmly_ talk to himself.

“I AM NOT HESITATING LIKE WITH CAEDA” Marth softly spoke to himself as he was _most not definitely_ marching up and down the rows. Marth stopped his leisurely walk and bounced his hands in front of him to empathize his very calm words.

“I am _JUST…..TAKING ….._ ** _MY TIME.”_** He exhaled heavily from his nose as he was shaking his head. He walked over to the table they laid their own clothing. “I’m just taking my time to see if she likes me too”. He sat still on the student’s chair to test to see if all the butterflies were out of his system.

They weren’t.

He sat up and smashed his right sword hand on the table.

> _**“DAMN IT!”** _

The one thing that was louder than his yell was the pain that shot up his arm and into his ear. The shock made him buckle and slowly drift down like a fallen leaf back into his chair. He hissed in pain as he rocked his hurt hand. He embarrassingly looked at the chip in the wood he made into the explosion retardant table, then dragged his sights to the silver breastplate and gloves she left behind. He pulled his tired body over to their discarded clothing and held onto it like a sad lover holding whisky in a smokey bar closed for the night.

“Of all the gin joints, in all the castles, in all the world… _she walks into mine_.” Marth sang like a broken whistle.

Marth pulled every part he had remaining of her till tomorrow came and buried his face into it. His right hand trailed up the cattle tracks up his shoulder to pretend she was still here.

“I’ll make us work… Just keep believing in me… Please.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=09g2PzusuzI&ab_channel=MactanDotCom
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d22CiKMPpaY&ab_channel=fiegepilz
> 
> get cultured.


	7. The Finishing Touch

Morning came and it was back to work for both of them - Marth ruling his kingdom with Kris aiding him or standing on guard. Both seemingly made a silent agreement not to talk about their last night experiences to one another and kept up their professional and friendly outwardly appearances. As the sun slowly started to set both their heartbeats started to creep ever faster. Both of them had eyes on the sky, waiting for it to turn a yellow hue before their day could truly begin.

Marth headed down to the classroom with his dancing clothing held tightly to his body. As he walked he thought about all the different outfits Kris could have brought along and Marth started to grow a little uneasy. “ _Maybe I should have gave her some advice of what Caeda taught me about women’s wear - but - I trust she won’t come in wearing a potato sack… Even though I know she’d still be stunning.”_

Marth was at the classroom’s door and went to test the doorknob was unlocked - which it was. As he pushed the door open, his intuition made him stopped himself and pulled back.

“ _Wait a minute.”_ He thought apprehensively.

Kris was mid getting dressed, she was crouched on the ground fully unclothed as she was folding up her guard attire with her dancer clothing placed on the side. Marth walked into the room backwards and slid in through the crack which took her off guard. Kris pulled up her dancer clothing in shock but then grew confused as she saw Marth walking in the way that he was.

“Coming in.” Said Marth as he held the door to make sure no one could see past him. “Are you decent?”

Kris had to check her own nude body as she was still squatting on the floor. “Uh, no?”

“Throw me the key, please?” Marth asked. She responded in kind and chucked over the key across the room. Without even needing to look back Marth held out his hand and was able to grab it and locked the door for her. He then walked to the corner of the room. Kris looked away and was constantly blinking in confusion.

“How did you know to walk in backwards, M-Marth?” She asked in total bewilderment while staring off into space.

“I had a hunch of what’d happen if I just barge in unannounced. Merric and I perused enough rubbish literature to pick that up - as boys do.” Marth said as he began to undress facing the far-off corner.

Kris’s vocabulary has been increasing ever since she met Marth but the scrabble of words he just spewed from his mouth left her dumbfounded. “What the heck? W-What did you just say?” Reflexively she looked back to get a response - which was her biggest mistake.

Though he was no muscle builder, his trials and tribulations throughout his life forced his body to be molded into a killing machine. His wide shoulders cut grooves into his back that she was astonished any of the ‘royal fancy clothes’ ever fit her hero’s triangular torso. She was very used to seeing his frame from behind - but always with a cape. Due to the angle she was at, the teacher’s desk at the front of the blocked the lower half of his body. That, however, did not stop her staring at how his arms simply function. Every action like him lifting his tunic over his head to how he tossed it to the ground like a heavy sack looked to her as if he was flexing at every opportunity. She was on all fours on the ground, naked, mildly gawking at him - like the fucking pig she was.

 _“Why’d I ever rejected to keeping watch for him when he bathed?”_ She thought to herself while having zero shame - for the current moment.

Marth continued as he was undoing his belt that held his sword to his body - unaware he was being stared at. Marth dumbed down the wording so Kris could digest it easier. “There’s a bunch of fiction that’s on the low brow side of the spectrum that Merric and I used to sneak into the castle with. One of the trashier tropes that’d frequently appear is the protagonist walking in a room while the love interest was undressing.”

Hearing her being called out made Kris look at Marth more generally, but then the guilt made her turn her back and ball up her dancer’s clothing in her fists. Her only context of romance was from the dancing story she accidentally possessed as a child and didn’t know better - she thought she was being clever.

“Were there any stories where, like, the love interest wanted to be seen?” She asked attempting to puzzle together a fragment of her reality.

“Plenty, but they never made any sense to me.” Marth said as he took a sledgehammer to her confidence. “Why would you want to be seen like that? There’s no consent - and half the time they’re doing it to someone they hardly know”.

Kris was biting down on her dancer outfit. “But we know each other”.

“Did you say something, Kris?” Marth overheard.

Kris cleared her throat as she pulled her dancer clothing from her mouth. “Sorry, choked on my spit there! Now I know, thanks!” She sighed heavily afterwords as she looked at her dancer clothing fully self-conscious about her choices. Marth however, felt things didn’t add up.

“Are you sure everything’s okay?” He paused getting dressed and talked with an air of authority.

Kris sucked in her gut as she felt a cold sweat drop trail down her spine and drip off her cheek. She searched for the right thing to say or otherwise she was screwed. Thankfully though, a half-truth was there in her palms which she looked worryingly at her clothing. “I don’t know if you’ll like my outfit. I- _I-I-I_ made it myself and-”

“You _made_ yours?” Marth cut her off in excitement. He was ready to turn around but paused since he didn’t recall hearing her change.

Kris quickly got dressed, choosing to lay in the bed she made. “M-M-Maybe ‘made’ is a strong word. But I tore some stuff off an’ made it better for me y-yeah.”

“Well, let me know when it’s okay to see it. I can’t wait.” Marth said with a smile as he was rolling up his white sleeves as high as they could go.

“Yeah just, let me tighten this belt and-“ Kris mumbled as Marth let out a scoff - which Kris took offense too. “What’s so funny!?”

“That’s a very provocative mental image you gave me there.” He confessed as he was finished and was now just waiting for the okay to look at her.

“What’s dirty about a belt?!” Kris was fully distracted now. She was arguing while she was still topless.

Marth rocked on his black boots that matched with his dress pants and vest. “If _you_ made your outfit I can only wonder where the belt could even go. Is it around your waist?”

“Is Naga a saint, ya cheeky tart?” Kris sneered back as she put on her two-piece dancer outfit and slid into her short white boots. She tapped the shoes to made sure that they fit. “Alright, ready.”

“Likewise,” Marth said as they both turned to face each other.

Kris turned to see Marth wearing a white dress shirt with a little black rope to act as a tie. The said dress shirt was rolled up and buttoned at the top to keep his sleeves from rolling down. This showed off his mechanical muscles that she was adoring yesterday.These sleeves could roll up higher than his royal tunic just to accommodate her. Onto of his blouse was a black suit vest, black dress pants, and black boots. He wouldn’t look out of place if he was behind a city’s tavern bar.

Kris’s eyes sparkled in fascination as she ran over to him. “Wow, where’d you get _that?_ I can’t believe we match!!” Her white boots tapped around the ground as she ran into his view. She wore a black outfit that left very little to the imagination. What she wore _used to be a_ black qipao dress but it was an event that she took an edge to it and cut back much of the fabric. Her legs were near fully exposed and the dress was slashed in half. A skirt was held up by a white belt that hung around her hips. All of her midriff was showing as well as her arms as well. The only thing that was conservatively covered was her breast with the remaining half of her black dress, but that didn’t leave much to the imagination either. She wouldn’t look out of place on stage as the city’s tavern dancer.

Kris walked around Marth inspecting him like an alleycat meeting a pampered house cat on the street for the first time. Marth took every single opportunity he could just to look at her as she was doing circles around him - his heart was beating hard in his chest. “ _I’m now thinking not even a potato sack dress would have helped me keep my mind from racing in this situation”._ He thought as his mouth was partly agape while looking at her.

“Oh! I think Jagen used to wear something like this?” Kris finally concluded after doing a bit of inspection of his body. “I’ve never seen Cain wear something like this under his armor but I know _some_ of the knights do!” Kris said with a smile. She stopped twirling around him and stopped in front of Marth. She saw Marth staring at her, face red already. Kris once again was growing fully self-conscious of her clothing. She was taking a few intimidated steps back as she covered her belly with her arms. “It’s a bit much, isn’t it? Just turn around then and I’ll change back.” Kris attempted to escape but Marth snatched her wrist.

For that split moment, there was a war fought between them. Kris put all her strength to pull her arm away from him - more than the strength he was using to crush her yesterday. It was a strength only found in desperation. Yet Marth’s grip did not sway and could hold out long enough to get in what he wanted to say.

“You look womanly”. Marth’s words penetrated not Kris’s heart, but the demons inside her mind. Kris stopped tugging as she felt the monster’s in her body vanquished and vanish into dust. She turned back to her prince who looked at her with a supportive smile and a softness in his eyes. It melted her already frail walls as she tip-toed closer to him, before finding the confidence to take a full stride. She bumped into his body and rested her head back on her favorite spot as she clung to the vest with her fingertips. Marth held her upper back as he stroked her hair - brushing out her ponytail with his fingers.

“Phina tried to get me to wear some, _questionable attire,_ during the war”. Kris said in-between her breaths. “I was hoping it’d look good to you, Sire.”

“Are you wearing this sword master’s uniform for me or for yourself?” He referenced the fact that this dress was once one of the uniforms for one of his classes in his army - before Kris took an edge to it. Kris let long sigh as she had to think on that question. She shifted the side of her head that she was laying on as she looked at her fingertips tug on his slick vest.

“I’m not sure”. She confessed as she was letting out shaking breaths.

There was a stillness in the air, a peaceful one - but ripe with kinetic energy. The only sound was both their worried breathing and the stroking of her hair. The still waters were disturbed by a single droplet - an echoing thought of Marth. _“I’m not hesitating_ \- _Half of this dance is about confidence, Marth”,_ he repeated mentally to himself.

“You were beautiful back then as you are now. But that never stopped trusting and depending on you as if you were a fellow man at arms.” Marth spoke calmly and clearly as he attempted to soothe her soul. “You were always a woman to me.”

Marth could tell his words were reaching her as he could see her smile coming back to her. His hand slid down his chest and over to his left bicep as she was trying to slowly prep for their dancing positions. Feeling her naked hand slide across his body made his right sword hand, and sword, tense up. He took a smiling exhale to keep his happiness somewhat under control.

“Do I look _really_ womanly?” She asked as she was twisting one of her toes into the ground.

The overly cute body language she was displayed along with the confidence returning in her voice rewired some areas of his frontal lobe and cerebellum parts of his normally conservative brain. He lowered his head to her ear and whispered into it.

“When you act shy like that, _yes_.” Marth cooed.

Both then locked stiff realized what just happened. Before Marth’s heart could pump another pulse to trigger an anxiety rush to back peddle, Kris huffed a snort. She pulled back a hair and went into a giggle fit. Then looked up at Marth with a beaming yet bashful smile. Marth’s wide smile couldn’t be held back as he looked at her in real-time to recover from the embarrassment. She took a good amount of time to try to gather her nerves which gave him all the time to marvel at her and gather his thoughts.

“ _I could say it now - how I truly feel about you - but the way she’s showing every side of herself to me - I’d be heartless to stop. There’s no war, we won’t die tomorrow, there’s no pressure. Even my coronation to become king is being pushed back because of my sister’s wedding. I can bend any law so that we can be together - but until then - we_ _can_ _take this slow. I’m glad you think something has changed between us. I couldn’t be happier to be with you, Kris. I love you so much.”_

Watching her fanning herself and getting giddy like a flower child helped Marth come to terms with how he felt. Yet as she was calming down, a small seed of doubt started to sprout in his head that made him look away from her in a narrow scorn.

 _“…I’m assuming something about all this, actually.”_ He thought.

Kris was scarlet red in the face with her teeth fully showing. She was puffing out little clouds of steam as she was swaying a bit to get some of the extra energy out of her. However, she saw Marth’s face look away in thought. She steadied her breath and waited for him to speak to her. The two locked eyes, Marth fixated with a stubborn neutral face. It was Kris’s patient smile that eventually eroded away Marth’s edges and reminded him to signal that what he was about to say wasn’t meant to be taken with hostility - and he smiled back at her.

“Thank you for yesterday”, he started off with. “I remember when we were swaying you asked if there was something different about us.” Kris’s heart palpitated as she staggered back in her stance. Seeing her flinch like this only made him smile a bit more. “I just wanted a bit of clarification, Kris, that’s all.” Marth went to assure her. He waited for Kris to fidget a bit to grow comfortable. She licked her lip as she pulled back some of her messy hair behind her ear as she adverted eye contact. She moaned out a yes as she was looking down at his knees.

Poor Marth’s heart pumped seeing her act and sound coy again. In an attempt to help her out of her shell he reached his hands out and helped her in the beginning dancing position she learned yesterday. The willingness to ‘push on’ did pump a great deal of comfort into Kris. It confirmed to her that Marth was going to keep embracing her, and not push her away.

“Do you still feel that way? That things are still different between us? For me, it is, but in a purely positive light. Do you see it as holy as I do?” Marth presented her the ultimatum in his heart, as delicately as he could. Though it was a heavy question, it was the weight she was used to carrying. Kris’s palms sweat she took a long exhale from. Her breath as she looked up at him. She was fighting to make eye contact with him.

“It’s… I _want it_ to be only positive.” She responded in a half-whisper - her hands squeezing on his bicep and sword hand. Her eyes caved and looked away as she pulled Marth’s arms together with how scared she was. “But we’re from different classes, so I thought we could only be a fling till you found someone else who could carry the world with you”. Marth’s Royal Guard was letting her loos lips spill her heart thanks to Marth’s curse.

Marth broke their dancer stance and held both of her shoulders. She looked up at him with her white eyes as wide as a full moon. When she tried to look away, Marth rests his fingers underneath her chin to correct her and kept it there. Just as simple as a coin flip, Marth was the light to Kris’s lost shadow. “Let me worry about that.” He echoed softly to her. “I simply want you to think if these feelings are true, or only a rush.” Kris now firmly locked eyes with her savior. Marth found his rhythm being a leader for her, and felt immense honor that he was guiding her in these moments. “Have trust in me.”

Kris’s hands started to shake as she pulled her eyes away from him in shame of her failed faith in him. Her hands gravitated to Marth’s palm that was trying to encourage her to look at him again. Both her hands slid up that arm to make his guiding hand grow weak. Holding his arm as lovingly as she held Caeda’s spear, she made his hand cup the side of her face. She then buried her head into his palm. Marth stroked her jawline with all of his battle-harden fingers - his thick skin was sturdy enough to act as brushes.

“How did you?” Kris whimpered into his hand - each syllable she spoke felt like a kiss. There was a far off misty look in her eyes.

Marth responded with his heartbeat growing louder in his chest. “You made me feel _a lot_ of things yesterday, but the one thing that I can do only now is _‘think straight’._ You know that I’m good at stopping problems before they start - it’s my curse.”

“It’s a blessing,” Kris said as she closed her eyes, turning her lips more into his palm.

The pounding in Marth’s heart continued, but now it had a sinister twist of pain to it. “It’s not one.” He spoke for his own distaste for his talent. “I live my life in fear.”

The spear point of that sentence skewered them both - through Marth’s back first, and then Kris’s exposed belly. The shadow stab struck the ground behind Kris, and both the Prince and the Royal Guard stood stiff. If figments of ones imagination could be made real - Marth and Kris would brought what Marth’s said to their graves, which was what the Prince wished. Kris’s eyes shoot open to that terror, while Marth held a condensed focus of contempt to the vexing ghosts that haunted him. As the phantom evaporated along with the murder weapon, both the victims shivered as the dead air blew through the holes in their souls. Kris lowered Marth’s hand from her face to rest on her shoulder as she turned and looked at the door. She remembered telling Marth how it was soundproof when reporting what Merric talked about with her yesterday and recalled both times where Marth locked the door for her. It was all the evidence she needed to feel the weight he truly carried.

“Just when I thought I ‘got you’.” Kris spoked as dry as the tomes’ contexts were in the shelves around them. Marth cocked his eyebrow as he pulled back his chest, puzzled at how she was responding. She took a deep breath and held his hand tightly as a girl would a teddybear. She gave him a wide smile, already able to get back to her positive tone.

She spoke confidently; “Keep the key then, I beg you. And yes. I…” Her words trailed off, as the pounding in her chest started to accelerate. She stared past Marth as he watched all the blood that was using for thought being pumped into her face in a blush. She wanted to casually confess her love then and there, but every safety net of her selfish goal held her steady and in place. “My mind is blank, forgive me, Sire.”

He huffed out a laugh as he grinned at her. “You seem like you want to say something to me?”

She nodded her head as she panned around the room, reviewing what they just talked about. She looked lost in the woods. “So you’re basically asking for me to be your girlfriend and pretend there’s none of that ‘political’ pegasus dung in the background - since you’re confident that you can handle that messy fallout”?

Marth pulled back his hand from her face as he gulped. He _knew_ the words she was talking about but never interacted with them personally. Kris looked pleasantly surprised by Marth’s blatant confusion.

“Oh, come now, what’s with that look, Sire? Don’t tell me you think I’m just asking to be your friend who happens to be a _girl_.” She said as she spoke with her arm moving in large strokes.

Marth waved his hands in front of him in timid dismissal. “It’s not that, I just don’t know exactly what a girlfriend _does_.”

It took a hot second for Kris to register what he just said. She gawked at him, smiled, then was slowly blinking. “What was Caeda and you then…?” She was finally able to ask.

Marth took a step back as he covered his blushing smile with his clenching sword hand. “After all that time Caeda and I spent together, we were _very_ excited after the end of the first war so we skipped a few steps,” Marth confessed, but then had to jump back as Kris then smashed her fist onto the teacher’s desk. She leaned over it, shook, and started to holler and laugh. “What did I say?!” A mix of happiness and confusion was in his smile when he asked. Kris was able to compose herself with a few huffs then looked back at him.

“That makes sense,” She said with a large grin as she pointed her full palm to him as if to ‘give him that point’. Marth didn’t seem ready to accept that pity point as he looked away bashfully and rubbed the back of his head. Kris then assumed a power stance in front of him with both hands holding her exposed sides. “Guess I’ll take charge here”. She announced. Marth looked at Kris with comfort as he was ready for another lesson of ‘the norms’ of the world that only she got to experience between the both of them.

She spoke with a single hand - her palm facing him. “Starting today you’ll be my boyfriend and I’ll be your girlfriend, but best not say it to anyone - otherwise - _a lot_ of people are going to think I’m your ‘whore’ or something.”

“A concubine or a mistress?” Marth went to clarify for the sake of his understanding.

“Yeah, that.” Kris grinned at him giving him an affirming nod. Marth nodded his head in agreement with her with his smile growing. She kept going only after she saw his. “We just continue as normal, and be… ourselves”.

“So everything we’ve _been_ doing we just keep doing?” Marth asked as he rubbed his neck. Kris huffed yet another smile at him. He was staring at her for a long time as she happily waited for his understanding echo to come back, but the call was never received. He drew a long shaken sigh as he looked away with a scowl fixing itself onto his face. “Yet. when do we-“. He stopped himself as he swallowed his spit. His heart was pounding as his eyes was searching through his own woods for a way out of his twisted worldview.

Kris folded her arms after she was able to see a glimmer of Marth’s ‘goal’ that flashed through the trees. “You just wait for the right chance. It’s not as simple as mathematics. There’s no rules to moving beyond the next step. Normal folk just play fast and loose with when they ask the big question. It just kinda happens, like in those books you read you were a kid.”

“Just not as forced?” There was a glint of understanding that sparked in his eyes. That shimmer turned into a wildfire as she nodded her head in agreement. Marth was then smiling ear to ear.

“See there you go” She sung to him as she leaned back and rested her hands behind her head. “Say, can I call you ‘Mars’ when it’s just us now? Girlfriends get to call their boyfriends all sorts of cute names to embarrassed them.”

He was thrown off by that sudden question as he shook his head sheepishly as he was blushing. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, Kris”.

Kris started to rock her hips from side to side, jiving in place. “Ah come on! Boyfriends always does what the girlfriend asks them to. It’s the part of the deal!”

Marth gave a far more affirming head shake of ‘no’. “I think you’re giving me misinformation, _Pine_ ”.

Kris blinked at him as she lightly put her hand on her chest. “ _Pine?”_ She asked inquisitively.

“It’s because you’re _prickly_ like an evergreen”. Marth snarked back, which made Kris gasp in horror. Seeing her reaction was a shock he didn’t anticipate and he blurted out laughing as he held himself. His laugher rumbled some of the books to fall over in the shelfs. The spike in volume made Kris flinch but she watch Marth break into tears in front of her with glee. She held her heart as he was trying to recover from his laughter.

_“I was ready to do so many things just to be sure I could even be allowed to stand by your side. I’m not used to life-giving me an invitation like this. Then again, this is how I was even able to become your knight in the first place. Maybe we were meant to be.”_


	8. Careless Whispers

Time went by with their passion being soothed by their equal love for physical labor. Marth forged a dancer out of her, and Kris loved the increasing difficulty. There were trip ups, several failed attempts at dips involving her throwing Marth into the book shelves, days where Marth couldn’t take his mind off work, days they argued nonstop about work, days where they made up, days where they just sat and talk, days that they only slowed danced, days when their slow dancing were as charged as they were when they first danced. As the ball was drawing closer - socially he found excuses to spent longer time alone with Kris in the name of brushing up on his dancing.

Whenever Marth adorned a crown he was the leader to everyone, and she was his knight. Many suiters over these days and weeks approached Kris for both long term crushes or fame but she rejected them all for she was ‘married to the job’. Whenever Marth and Kris wore their black and white dancer garbs, they were partners they dreamed of - plain and simple.

By now they were using the whole room to practice dancing patterns. They spend the start and end of every session to both lift up the heavy tables to the side of the room and back again. Marth and Kris still had no song to guide them, it was only raw discipline that allowed them to stay on a beat.

“Slow slow - _fast_ \- slow - _fast_.” Marth instructed as Kris was following complex footwork as they hovered across the dance floor. Though the waltz wasn’t as bombastic as other styles, Kris wouldn’t settle for anything but perfection. Near the end of their set, Marth held her back and went to dip her. Her heels squeaked - she slipped on her footing. Her entire weight went on Marth’s lone leg. He held her bodyweight along with her gripping his dancer vest and yanking it to her body. Kris’s sword hand was shaking as she ripped his vest by accident and the top of his dress shirt. Marth’s hands refused to drop her. Both of them were sweating, huffing, and were startled. His shirt buttons fell to the floor like spare change.

She was still trembling in fear, but she was able to gather herself and look at Marth’s torn-off vest she had in her palms, shaking more. Marth only huffed out a laugh as he pulled her up to her feet. “Don’t worry about that, Kris. I’d rather that rip apart than you getting hurt. Can you walk?”

She mumbled to herself as she was amazed at her own grip might was the same as his when it came to tearing off clothing. She was proud of her own strength, including her ability to stand. She went to tell the truth to Marth that she was fine, but she panned up his body and saw the cleavage of his pecks in the buttonless top half of his shirt. Monkey brain of Kris went on. Monkey brain of Kris threw Kris knightly code of chivalry away.

“N-No.I mean yes but not well?” She said as she stared at his sweat drip down the curvature of his chest. “C-c-c-c-an you help walk it o-off?”

Marth was giving her a somewhat understanding but smug look, which he knew she wasn’t seeing because they were clearly not making eye contact. “Sure, then we can take a break. You’re looking winded, Kris.”

“Y-Yeah.” Kris said absentmindedly as Marth walked over to her side. Marth wrapped his hand around her hip to prop her up as they walked a cool-off lap around the classroom. Kris rested her head on his shoulder to look right down his shirt. Her eyes dilated seeing how the fat of his tit balled up when she pressed down on her favorite pillow. Marth rolled his eyes as he rubbed her side as they walked. He reached as low as he could, but nothing distracted her from staring at him.

Marth helped her to one of the tables they stacked to the side and made her sit on it to ease her feet. He haded one of the repurposed potion bottles they were using for well water. As she had a seat he leaned against the bookshelf wall next to her. Normally they'd both be guzzling down water at the same time, but this time he waited. He watched for her to be halfway through her first bottle before he threw his sinister sucker punch.

“Should I take it off?” Marth casually asked.

Water was spraying out of her nose and the rest from her mouth poured on her chest. As Kris had to recover from the burning sensation she was feeling, Marth too was suffering recoil damage from nearly hacking out his lung in sharp laughter. She used a scrap of his black vest as a napkin and to keep coughing into as well. He leaned to her, overweighed in a natural concern in his voice.

“Are you alright, Kris?” He asked with a smile, only because Kris was nodding in agreement. She blew out her nose and cleaned her face and was in high spirits.

“That was good,” Kris confessed.

Marth went to offer his bottle to her, but she rejected showing that she still had plenty more. As she was taking huffs to gather her breath she looked over at Marth. He was staring off and taking a moment to simply fix his appearance. He pulled his shirt to least cover the whole even though it was futile to keep it concealed in the long run. He brushed his crownless hair to make sure it was all proper. His eyes were on the chalkboard reading the notes of Merric taught his class that day all with a smile. There was peace, yet, his body was not as soft as his heart was. The juxtaposition started to sit uneasily in her as she worryingly looked over her own body and how she was toned - gaining strength in the name of justice. She wondered if they were one of the same.

Marth glance to check on her since she was silent and saw the worried cowl on her face. “Is something wrong, Kris?”

"You think I can ask you a random question? A thought just kinda crossed my mind." Kris asked.

"Ask away."

Kris met Marth’s eyes. “What _exactly_ drove you to get the strength you have?”

Marth looked dead forward and took no time to respond to her. “Hatred.” He took a swig of his water as Kris crawled across the table to sit closer to him.

“Hatred? But you’re the nicest person I know. You got strength because you wanted to protect people, right?” She said as she sat next to him kicking her feet off the table. Marth shook his head no to her as he had a neutral stare forward that held a hint of dissatisfaction.

“It was only hatred of what happened to my home. I didn’t think of the people. I only thought about how I felt. If Caeda was still alive, she could tell you how I broke myself training while I hid in her kingdom. Not even Cain knows how hard I was pushing myself.” He spoke as he swiveled his potion of water, a body behavior that he picked up from the late great Sir Jagen when he used to drink his wine.

“Well, could you tell me?” She asked innocently.

Marth shook his head again. “Not in the detail she could. And I’m not rejecting it because it’s something _'I don’t want to tell my confidant’_ , but it’s because I can’t remember. I’d run till there was foam coming from my mouth. I pushed myself till I was bleeding. I’d wake up in Caeda’s lap - sick - broken - and to her scolding. I was like that for two whole years before I took to the field. After that, the war that raged for about a decade, I won in less than a year. About another year past - you came - then Hardin betrayed me - that war only lasted one year too, but you know that story.”

He took another drink before continuing.

“My motive for fighting changed in the Shadow War, but only near the end. It was only after I found out my mother was dead. It changed from hatred to protection - to view my enemy not as an enemy but as another man - that happened when I fought Sir Camus. But the reason why I am strong is not because of love. Never was. Never will be.”

He finished his water and placed his empty bottle on the table next to her. He folded his arms still looking forward.

“We are of equal strength, more or less. You’re a bit faster, I’m a bit stronger. But equal - I like to think. Yet even though it took your whole life up to this point to achieve what I could do in a few some years, you will always be better than me. You fought for love, no matter what shape it took. You told me you were scared to fight because, before you met me, the thrill of the battle will take you - blood _lust_ is still a twisted type of _love_. I envy you. I wish I could be like you, Kris, but I know I never can. Not in this life.”

Kris was leaning her back on the wall with her legs tucked in. She clung onto the shelves as her heart was bleeding for him. “Do you hate how you look then? I know so many men who wished they look like you - yet - your body was forged by hatred, not passion. It feels as if you just view yourself as a weapon..."

Marth tilted his head down to think about that question. There was a pounding that started to bang in his chest which he smiled at hearing. “I used to think myself as only a weapon, Kris. There’s a reason why I had only a vanity in my room and not a full body mirror.”

Kris leaned forward on the table as she took herself off the wall. A bit of hope was in her eyes and tone. “What made you think differently? Was it the affirmation that you saved the world twice? That your might brought every power to unite and make a peace for the foreseeable future?Because like, if I had that power to do that, I’d be head over heels.”

“None of that made me happy.” Marth said as he rested his hand over his thumping heart.

“What did then, Marth?” She sat crosslegged on the table now, waiting for him to spit it out. Her constant shifting in her body language was making him smile. He took a deep breath.

“It was realizing that I could keep up with you when we dance was when I finally loved what became of myself.” He said as he glanced at her to watch her reaction.

He’s never saw her smile shrivel up so fast. Her puckered lips stayed in a frown as her wide moon eyes stared dead at him. His smile grew just a centimeter more. Marth went to grab his bottle to drink, but realizing it was empty, he walked over to where they stored the rest to let that thought sink in for her.

Kris was at a loss, not blushing romantically, or head over heels. She looked devastated in a petrified way. Marth returned with two more bottles from the front of the class. She only found the strength to look up at him which he stood tall with a smile. “So all that time, you just…You just were in pain? You hated what you became until I came around?”

He nodded in agreement as he put his third bottle down on the table. "I am a Prince before I am a man or your lover. As my people's Prince, I am their sword and shield. It's why I like you, Kris. We both think the same about our 'jobs' as you elegantly word it. And I mean that as one of my greatest compliments."

He chugged down his second bottle. There was a pain growing in Kris’s chest. “Did Caeda know though of your pain?”

Marth shook his head no. The pain in her chest grew as she started to look angrily at him. “Why didn’t you tell her, Marth?”

“They needed me. And even then, I’m sure she knew.” A nostalgic tinge washed over his eyes, both with joy and sorrow, as he swiveled the water in his half-full glass. “She had that skill just to ‘get people’ like you do”.

“Do not sing me praise I do not deserve, Marth! I’m nothing like her. She’s better than me!” She dismissed with her knightly voice. She swung her hand across her body in a grand gesture of rejection. She then crawled away to retrieve her bottle of water. Only when she was looking away did he lower his walls, tilted his head down, and had a lovesick blush explode to the forefront as he watched the water droplets drip down the inside of his potion bottle.

“ _You’re right, Kris. You’re nothing like her. But you’re just as good, and a better dancer too._ ” He dared only to think to himself and take yet another secret to his death bed.

Kris chugged down her water and hopped off of the table. “Alright, I’m good to go. Actually, there was a dance move that I wanted to ask about we haven’t done yet.”

Marth cocked her an eyebrow as he went for his third bottle. "I've taught you all I know of the waltz and some exotic other dances too. Did you find another one we could try?" He nodded his head at her to continue.

"Not exactly... It's a waltz move we haven't learned yet." Kris’s two index fingers hooked around another as she talked. She first started sounding all confident - but it quickly spiraled into bashfulness. “So you know like in the dancing romance story I accidentally read as a kid? The one that, like, I thought was a combat manual? I was able to find a copy of the book recently just to review it again. So like, they like … turned… and did stuff?” She was digging her boot’s toe into the ground as she twirled her fingers around another. “And they like, did the dip and stuff too.”

Marth rolled his hand. “Thesis statement.”

“Sorry,” She said defeatedly as she nervously exhaled. “As he went for the dip, he did the finishing touch on her. And, like, since you are my instructor, I was wondering why we haven’t practiced that move yet. It seems really important!”

Marth shook his head with a smile, then after speaking would go for another sip. “There’s no dance move called ‘The Finishing Touch’.”

Kris clenched her teeth as she was turning cherry red. She shuffled her body so her shoulder faced him. She tapped her index fingers together to empathize her punctuation. “He went for a _kiss._ ”

Marth near choked on his water, yet refused to spit on her. She was looking at the ground as she spoke. “And I was wondering why we didn’t practice that dance move yet”.

Marth cleaned his mouth with his clenched fist. _“She can’t be serious. No. I refuse.”_ He thought as he tried to cling onto his sliver of reality.

She kept looking away from him as she was rubbing her forehead - while also bringing a sledgehammer to his fragile stability. “I mean, I never even kissed my grandfather on the lips - and he slapped me when I was able to kiss his cheek when I tried to do the finishing touch like what I told you before”.

Marth was staring at her lost in thought as he was fixating on her puffy lips while she was talking. “ _Oh no, she’s dead serious.”_

She started to chop the air as she spoke as if she was moving topics into their own individual boxes. “And would practicing it even count as a first kiss? I know that saving someone from drowning doesn’t count as a first kiss. I like to think what I did with my grandfather didn’t count as my first kiss frankly too - that slapped hurt. It knocked out one of my baby teeth even. There was blood all over my mouth.

Marth’s shaking hand needed to put the glass potion bottle on the table before he dropped it on the ground. He then covered the entire half of the bottom of his face with one hand as the other shaking arm hugged himself. He _wished_ his mind was blank. “ _She never kissed_ _anyone_ _?_ _I could be her first_ _? ” _This thought repeated at nausea. He clenched his gut as the grip tighten on his face to keep the butterflies from escaping his stomach. _"I get to have another first kiss? And it's not Caeda shoving herself onto me, but, I-I come to K-K-kris-sksissk isssk iss?? kiss??? Kiss Kris? She's asking me to kiss? She's not throwing herself at me?! Wa-wait no. She-Sh- Kissing Kris. She only thinks that we HAVE to kiss. W-why?? No I can't be done this way. Damn it! But I want to kiss Kris! We've been dating and I wanted to kiss her for so long. Why is it coming out like this!?"_ Marth's legs grew weak and were starting to shake. He tightened his thigh muscles to stiffen out his stance.

Kris continued to yap. “I know we couldn’t get to it during like the first few sessions - but we’ve been at this for a while. So I don’t know when it was coming. So I figured I should ask you, Marth.” She looked up at him as he was curled up. Both their hearts were pounding - yet hers was the only one that pained her. She looked away sharply as she hugged herself - squinting her eyes shut. “I’m sorry!” She cursed herself.

“No.” Marth cut her off, making her attention snapped back to him. He was hit with a bit of stage fright. “I…Was just…thinking how to respond to that.”

“O-oh okay.” She said a bit breathlessly.

They both looked away from one another.

Kris’s thoughts were so far over the horizon. _“I rarely ever seen Marth kiss Caeda in my time knowing him, even small kisses too. Maybe they were waiting for their wedding night? I don’t know, maybe I just never saw. Gods, I really sounded like a horny concubine there. What’s wrong with me!? But I just needed to know! Shouldn’t we be practicing that dance move?”_

Marth’s mouth was agape as he was looking around for a solution to this. Marth knew she placed all his trust into him. He bit on his bottom lip as if to punish the side of him that wanted to lie to her so that he could _finally_ kiss her. Yet he cringed in anguish knowing that telling the truth barred him from what he wanted. He softly groaned as his sword hand’s index finger was tapping his leg, knowing he had to make a choice. Regret came at him with either choice he picked - but at last, he picked his path.

“Well.” He said sharply to get her attention. She pivoted to face him and clasped her hands together looking at him with hope in her eyes. The torment that stare gave him made two of his fingers tap on his pants now.

“First off, it was just another trashy trope that you read. That finishing touch doesn’t always happen.”

Her eyebrow flinched with worry as her clasped hands lowered from her chest and were at her midriff.

He continued as he breathed through his pain; “Second, that would _most definitely_ count as your first kiss. You should save that for someone special. You should know that”.

She lowered her head as she gave a pitiful sad frown at her weakly clenched hands. Her own sword hand was shaking but ever so subtly. Marth felt his stomach acid gargle making him repress a belch. He swallowed some air to keep himself from throwing up. He then took his shaking sword hand and stroked through his hair as he looked at the front of the class. “ **Lastly**.” He spoke up.

She picked up her head with both her hands hardly touching each other now. He spoke choppy and was licking his dry lips.

“If you don’t _particularly care_ about the _sanctity_ of your _first kiss,_ I-I could be willing to help you with _th-that…. If you wish.”_

“You mean that?!” Kris smiled as her hands now interwoven between one another and had an impish smile. Marth pivoted his head to look at her - his jaw was slacked and open. She jumped up and clapped her hands. “Thank you! I was really worried we didn’t get to practice this part. So, how do we start?”

Marth sucked in his air and acted on autopilot. “May you give me a second?”

She nodded her head lowering her hands. “Sure, let me get some water! I’m still a bit parched.” She walked to the front of the class where they kept their spares.

Marth turned around and clasped his head with both hands. He was screaming in his own mental void. “ _SHE STILL DOESN’T KNOW!? SHE THINKS IT'S JUST PRACTICE!? NAGA WHY!!!?!? WHY DID I SAY THAT?! SHE’S GOING TO KISS ME BECAUSE SHE THINKS IT'S SOMETHING SHE HAS TO DO!_ ** _NOT BECAUSE SHE WANTS TO KISS ME! GODS DAMN ME, KRIS!! I DON'T WANT TO THROW MYSELF AT YOU LIKE CAEDA DID! HOW DO I MAKE HER WANT IT WITHOUT FORCING HER?!?! I WANT TO KISS YOU!_** _”_

He chopped at the table’s side with his sword hand.

“ ** _DAMN IT!_** _”_ He screamed out loud, to the world.

He was most certainly dammed as he was able to knick a part of the thick table off, at the cost of bruising his own hand.

That one hurt.

The woodblock that he chopped off was falling to the floor. He clenched his hand. There was a pitter patter of feet. He went to fall to the floor. Kris grabbed him. The chopped block plopped on the floor.

“What in Naga’s name??” Kris shouted as she was clenching Marth’s half buttonless shirt. Marth’s was on his knees , teeth clenched, repressing tears from rolling down his face. His sword hand shook swayed limply in pain. Kris looked around the room to make sure no one was here, and when the danger subsided she helped Marth prop himself to sit on the ground with his back to the bookshelves. She kneeled next to him - the black skirt she had on made her knee pop out in this dusty room.

“What night terror flashed by you that time? I’ve never seen you do that before.” Kris said as she clenched his shirt. Marth shook his head no as he was shutting his eyes. Kris sighed and seeing that he was at least staying still, reached out and looked at his red hand. “You idiot, we can’t dance anymore today with that”.

“I can still dance!” He protested hastily, desperately.

“I don’t want you hurting yourself!” She rejected swiftly, heartlessly.

There was a thunderous crack that broke in Marth’s dam. He looked away from her, his face trembling as veins started to bulge out of his skin. He was using so much strength just so that he didn’t break down crying there. As Marth was having his early midlife crisis, what chimed him out of his hell was hearing the slight cling of dulled metal - a weapon? No, a buckle. He looked at Kris and saw she was undoing the white belt that held her black skirt up. When she took the belt off the fabric of the black skirt slid down revealing a sliver of her white underwear on her hip - it matched the whole black and white motif of her dancer garb. For that small moment at the discovery, all the pain receptors in his hand shut off. All the blood ran away from his hands and flowed right to his brain and other Falchion. Still, that pain did return, and the pain told him to look up at Kris.

She was on her knees holding her white belt, heartbroken. Seeing any pain in her eyes was enough to kill any mood he had. He wanted to puke. She looked equally desperate as he was for her love. “I think pressure should help it? It helped when you squeezed my hand after that one time.” She asked sheepishly and was looking to him for his military advice. He nodded his head yes to her, blankly, rotting in pain all over his body. She shimmied closer which with her thighs pressing up against Marth’s body as she reached over to his right hand.

Marth looked over her body, and was able to comprehend the silhouette of her figure, but there was no libido that pumped in his body. He missed his chance, he hesitated. He looked blankly at where her black crop top met her rip’s skin - the contrast of black and ‘white’ confused his senses and orientation of night and day. The water he was chugging before wanted to spew out of his mouth like a geyser. He started to throb, as the water was about to find another way out of his body - from his tier ducts. Yet all of sudden there was a silver lining that he crossed, a hope spot in this tarantula downpour that kept him from drowning.

Marth felt her kissing him.

Marth fixated on his battle-damaged hand and saw Kris holding it up to her face, and was kissing the red part that would surely blister later. She kept it to her lips. Her lips felt the same as hers. They felt the same as the woman he loved more than anyone else in the world. It stayed. The warmth felt the same as her’s. A heatwave rushed to his face. The butterflies were nesting in his gut. She lifted her head to him. They smiled. It was her - to him. He could hear them from her lips.

“A little kiss helps make a little pain go away. That’s what your great-grandfather told me when I was your age.” Marth’s mother said to the little boy prince.

They were in the courtyard training grounds that Marth’s bedroom overlooked. It was a sunny summer afternoon. Elice was away on a trip. When his best big sister wasn’t able to watch - it was her mother’s duty to protect Marth. Yet unlike his big sister who was an amazing cleric even at a young age, all his mother knew was how to do was simply first aid. The lack of being able to cast any magic came from his mother’s side. After hurting himself trying to follow Jagen’s ever-diligent training, and was crying his little heart out, his mother reached to her sniffling boy’s wet cheeks and wiped them dry with her thumb while scraping up the gunk from his face with her long nail. After the kiss on his palm, she took her boy’s sword and cut a large part of her own dress in front of Marth’s eyes. The boy went to protest, but his mother only gave him a loving smile as she kneeled back by his side and reached across his body.

“Now hold still, Marth. The pressure should help _push_ the pain away, too.” Mother sang her careless whispers to the little man she loved the most in the world.

The boy reached out to her with his undamaged left hand. The man could only hold Kris’s shoulder.

The wood is cold, and the room was silent. The Night Terror that his mother was gone because he wasn't strong enough was settling in like roaches brooding eggs into his skin. The eggs burrowed through into his empty stomach. Marth felt the eggs hatching in his body. All the water he drank bubbled like a brew in a cauldron. His gag reflexes were kicking in. Marth needed to puke - he was scared.

Kris looked over at Marth as she was just finished tightening his belt around his sword hand. Marth was looking past her, his eyes slashed. His sword hand started to shake. Marth tried to eject the eggs of dread that were about to hatch in his body. Marth raised his sword fist into the air. He felt something soft cling onto his arm to get him to stop moving - a heavy sack of flowers, he was able to deduce. He stopped himself halfway in his downswing to keep himself from punching the sack of flowers. The contents of the soft sack were spared, as too was the floor from a bloody accident.

He was scared. He didn't want to be left alone.

From the corner of his conscious eye, he saw Kris clinging onto his arm. Both his arm and her were partly raised from the ground, and her body stretched across his lap. His open right hand trembled - but rather than clenching - he reached down to Kris’s terrified face and caressed it. She was able to pull herself up and attempted to sit by his side. Marth slid down his hand down her curvy side, grasped her outer thigh, which made a moan escape her quivering lips. He pried her stagnate legs to spread over his lap. She tried to fight back, but his strength was far too much for her to handle in her weak spot. Eventually, she picked up his cue. Promptly she flicked up her skirt tail and sat right on his sinking lap. She held him by his armpits to help him sit back up with his back against the wall. Marth helped himself to her fully exposed thighs and he rubbed across the entire shaft as diligently as he would polish Caeda’s spear. Once Marth stopped sliding down, Kris gripped the front of his shirt and the two kissed foreheads. She rubbed the top of his skull against his oily hair as more sickly liquid came out of every hole of his face.

A mix of acid and water shot at her neck which made her tense up in disgust. Microseconds into this episode she attempted to pull back, but she felt her legs being pinched. Any move she made that wasn’t ‘stay with me’ made his body react even more violently. She used her fast thinking to at least spare Marth anymore embarrassment from accidentally defiling his own clothing. She used his oily hair to swiftly slide her face over his head, and used the back of her chin to shove Marth forward. She grasped the side of his head and shoved him right into her covered chest. He bit down on the open cloth on her cleavage as he gagged, coughed, choked. Everything was so loud. The clear liquid of his bowles were soaked up by her breast. The water dripped down from her under boob and kissed the rim of her navel. Her skirt acted as a bib for the drips that was still coming from her breast that her white bra couldn’t catch. Her legs shifted, grind, and squirmed on the sides of his body. Her little black top was covered in sweat, spit, water, snot, and his trust. His oozing, shimmering, vile, trust.

Marth gathered himself and knew where he was. Reflexively he was trying to pull his head away from her chest, but she pushed his head down - and needed to - with both of her hands and all her strength. “It’s okay, you can keep going!” She _very carelessly_ shouted _._ Monkey brain of Marth went on - but to _at the very least_ _also_ violently attack the roach eggs of terror that were causing him to puke.

Marth head-butted her chest - the tremor making some of the glass bottles on the table right next to them topple over. The shockwave reverberated down the skin of her thighs. Kris was clinging onto the shelf behind him, her trembling sweating palms struggled to find their grip with each hack that came from his mouth. Each cough made her breast smear across his face. Kris felt his teeth. Marth was biting her - pulling - everywhere - suffocating - on her. There was no more water - only coughing. Gasping. This didn’t stop Kris from moaning at each vigorous vibration Marth’s sickly lungs forced upon her. Heavy dictionaries crashed onto the floor as she sprawled out her weight on the ground shelf directly behind him. Her love cries were louder.

She stayed sitting on his lap as he was motor-boating her titis he just regurgitated in. Each hagging cough was a sputter of his engine. It sounded like the ship was going to explode at any moment, with her cooing all along the way. Eventually, the rocky voyage made it to shore - somehow.

Marth was laying on the floor as Kris sat over his chest with her arms in the wall-tall shelves. The two were staring at each other - both red in the face, and both dared to wish they thought they saw hearts in each other’s eyes. Kris’s body was mildly okay after that whole ordeal. There was a stain of drool and water across her top, but since it was black - all one saw it was a bit of shimmering. The only thing Marth could cough up was water, so it left no smell - but the sensation of being used as a rag stayed with her like a tramp's branding. She loved her new marking, deep down. From Marth’s angle, he could see right up her shirt, with her wet bra no longer properly covering her breasts. But both the darkness in the dimly lit room and the glow in her face just made him only have his eyes lock with hers.

“Are you okay, Kris?” Marth slurred from his tired jaw.

There was a pause before Kris responded. “I should be asking you that first, It...It _seems_ to be out of your system. Right?” Kris whispered in-between her heavy breathing.

Marth blankly nodded yes to her, which relaxed her head and made it tilt slightly. “I’m okay…. I think? You didn’t hurt me - but I can’t feel my feet, and my head’s a bit fuzzy. I feel really relaxed, even though I really want to move off of you.” She admitted, unaware what her first ‘climax’ did to her body.

“I love you.” Marth carelessly whispered his first love confession in their relationship.

Though a blush did brush past her shifting lips, she stayed diligent and shook her head no to him. “I was just doing my job. Tis was nothing noteworthy. Can you move, Sire?”

Marth huffed a meek laugh from his dry gasping mouth upon hearing his work title, and a smile started to come back to his body. He nodded his head to her, seemingly both to her question - and to her rejection. He understood the logic to why she rejected him there. Marth went to sit up, but seeing that Kris truly couldn’t move by herself, he shimmied his body and raised up to where her arms were making a hole. Kris surrendered all her body strength to him and allowed her lungs to finally collapse. She fell into his arms, he caught her, and held her right to his exposed chest. Her tits smeared the vile trust that was lathered on them across his tattered dancer garb and exposed chest. He shivered, but, having her lay so limply in his arms made all other emotions but 'warmth' mute.

Both closed their heavy eyes as he hugged her. Both entered a zone of zen. Their minds at the same time were so clear that they were both feeling the foot traffic of the bustling life just outside their little cove through the vibrations of the floorboards. Their relationship, their reputations, their love was in jeopardy if Marth ever once forgot to lock the door. He never forgot. He could never forget anything. No matter how much it pained him.

Kris’s blood lusty eyes fixated on the man’s body she was resting on. She curled up her feet as she reached to her favorite left arm of his. She trailed up his veins and clasped onto his shoulder. The whimper that came from Marth’s chattering bottom jaw and his heels digging into the ground was enough to snap her fragile demon in two and looked up to Marth. “I’m sorry!” she gasped.

She tried to pull away, but he caught her hand. “It’s okay.” He said comfortingly.

She still tried to squirm away, but Marth’s hand slid up to her cheek to hold her in place and kissed the top of her head. Marth went back to stroking her arm to calm her down, but her eyes were staring dead at his skin. That simple act of love made her heart pumps feeling like a thousand horses running. “I’m sorry”. He echoed her gasp from before.

Kris snuggled into his chest, allowing her eyes to drift. “What happened there, Marth? If the well water Merric got us is bad I'm gonna need you to get me some charcoal for myself.”

“It wasn't the water. I thought of my mother. My hatred came from her death. She’s why I worked myself to the bone. She would have loved to have met you. She never even got to meet Caeda, or all my other friends.” He lamented as he kept up his steady petting. “When I came home for the first time I found out that she was eaten-.“ The memories made his voice turn husky, and he even scared himself stiff as he remembered the vibrations in the floors - horses - enemy foot troops - and dragons charging through his wide castle halls.

“Don’t force yourself” Kris whispered as she was being scratched by the buckle that was strapped around his hand. The sound of her voice brought him back from living in the moment, and at the very least was a spectator of it - like a ghost.His eyes were dead forward as he shook his head no.

“I never told you about the War of Shadows from my accounts. I robbed you of …” He then looked around in the darkness to find his words. “…I robbed you of…” Eventually he was able to finally say it. “I robbed you from helping me”.

He waited for a response from her, but there was silence. He looked down and met. Their pale blue eyes just stared at one another. It was dry, boring, but they got their stage directions. Marth exhaled from his nose as he got comfortable on the ground. The wood was hard, but the woman he had in his hands was all the comfort he needed.

Kris stared at the empty shelves she made when Marth was charging her up, regretting her window she lost due to her duties as a knight. “I don’t think we can make it as a couple, Marth”.

The only thing that changed about him was his slower breathing. She did not look at his face - for she could hear the pain she just caused to him from his shifting heartbeat. Her hands clenched in a fist, regretting what she said - but - had faith that if she spoke her true feelings, everything could work out still. He stayed silent, praying she’d continue.

Thankfully, she did; “I acted as your knight there and not your girlfriend. Now there’s still things you haven’t told me. I can, I understand. You can’t tell me everything off the bat. But…” she shifted in his grasp, that tighten fearing she was trying to leave him. She huffed a moan, comforted he was holding her so close still. “…Forgetting commoner and high-class divide, how can I cross the mindset of being a wife to you if I’m still your knight? I’m just another Caeda -“Marth’s sword hand clenched the veins in his arm budged out in a flex. She watched him react dismissively, then continued after the brief pause.”I’m just another Caeda, someone who wants to throw themselves in front of you. I’m someone who values your life over mine.”

His sword arm fully relaxed as he halted his breathing, a blush shot across his face as an important thread was finally snagged in his understanding of how Caeda acted to him. He looked down at Kris who was curled up in his chest, looking at his spit that was across her breast. He could see a distorted of her worried stare in its reflection. “No matter how I feel about you, there’s that impulse that will always be there. I can only ever see myself as your knight first, and your dance partner second.” she moaned as she was fighting back the tears.

Marth looked down at her, bewildered at how she looked so meek as she wilted her head into his chest, yet now he was full of vigor. It was as if she was giving him all her hardiness. He first looked at his hands to see if there was anything that was limiting his body - just to be sure. His eyes looked at the belt. He ripped it off and threw it to the door of the classroom. It’s delayed impact of the object hitting the ground made her head perk up and her grip clenched Marth with renewed vigor. “Who’s there!? Show _yourself_!” As terror-inducing it was for Kris to shout there for her, Marth couldn’t repress his ear to ear smile.

Marth held her body and rubbed her down to calm her. “It was just me. Sorry”

“O-Oh.” she whimpered from her frowning lips. She went to curl up but Marth pushed her weak legs open again with only a flick of just his pinky and thumb. To her shock, she was kneeling over his figure. She reflexively clung the empty shelves behind him as Marth held the sides of her face so she could only look at him. They sat at equal eye level of one another.

“Don’t deprive me of having something to fight for, for you do your actions - regardless of what they are - in the name for the love you have for me.” He clearly spoked to her. “I may not always understand you, as you will me, but please - Kris - Don’t leave me because of that impulse you have to protect me. It’s what makes you strong.”

His right arm trembled as he looked down - using his thoughts to calm him down. “ _Can’t hesitate - got to dance with confidence”._

He looked back up at her who waited for him. “If you think you can accept your knightly impulses being a part of you, then kiss me. Kiss me now”.

Kris started to shake as her arms gripped his shoulders. It felt like she was pulling away. “Kris _please_ ” He began to beg.

She started to cry, which made Marth’s panic grow. She croaked her words as she had to suck up the snot that was trailing out of her nose. “I’m scared.”

He wiped away the tiers just like his mother did to him.“How can I make you feel safe, Kris?”

She was trembling her neck as she rattled her head in rejection of his request. She was now full on sobbing. “No - it’s not that type of scared. I-I don’t know how to kiss anyone! I was hoping you could _show me_ today!!!! That’s why I asked!!!!! I want to right now - but I don’t know h-how!! I-Is it p-p-p-p-part of our routine as well?! Y-you said it was-was a clich’ T-T-TRASH! But I-I thought it’d be c-c-c-c-cute!! I-Is it p-p-p-p-part of our routine?? I-I wanted it to be! **I need it in our set!** **_PLEASE MARTH?!”_**

Marth was wheezing out a laugh as he pulled in Kris's ugly sobbing head to his own to kiss her. “It's in _all_ our sets now”.


	9. I’m Out of Practice

They kissed - and both their mind monkeys did a backflip.

Kris sunk into his lap while Marth held her head with each of his hands as if he was drinking from a massive chalice. Both grew drunk from the spark that flared from the simple friction against each other's lips. Kris looked as if she was asleep like the drowsy moon, while Marth was a beaming ball of sunshine. Both had their eyes closed - simply resting lips. Kris wasn’t quite sure what to do with her hands, so she assumed roughly what her dancer position would be. She reached to his left bicep while the other clung to his right shoulder. 

Kris's thoughts fluttered away on the wind. _"So this is what it feels like? There's been so few situations where just staying in one place made my heart... shake this much..."_

Her meek hands shook while his steady grip rocked and bob her head along with his. Kris's legs started to press together due to the added friction against her lips. She let out a whimper, which made Marth just pull her closer. Kris's eyes pried themselves open, but she was only looking up at the sky. _"Oh, that rubbing feels so nice..."_

While still lost in her thoughts, her mind didn't keep a single check on the sounds she was letting out from the back of her throat. At the beat of each whimper, Marth would cock her head back. She'd take that chance to breathe. Marth was then captivated by Kris's acme riddled eyes and ogled lips.

Marth's heart commanded his mind to think of only one battle command; _"More."_

He would attempt to capitalize on that moment to try to experience more of her. He kissed her right as she was letting out a gasp. Kris was fast to keep her mouth closed. The suddenly lower drawbridge caused Marth's force to crash against that barricade. More sparks flew as the two were grinding their faces against one another. This volley would continue. Her speed to open and close her gates to allow her to breathe matched the strength in which he tried to slip through her cracks. Her head rested in the bowls of his palm. Marth felt like Naga who cradled a whole world in his hands. The last time Marth felt this humbled was when his fellow comrades gave them their kingdoms to him to guide his whole continent to peace. And the time before that was when he got to hold Caeda just like this.

Kris was faster and was more resistant than Marth's last lover, but the strength of Marth's persistence was an unworthy opponent. She was too weak to keep fighting him. The kisses were soft, and the most extreme thing was that he was doing was make their lips rub when they met. Yet from Kris's watery eyes she felt like she should've seen all the books on the wall high shelf falling around them. Her face was being pounded - from her perspective. Each rub along their lips sparked as much as a flint and steel. Her fingers trailed down his bicep like hot candle wax - her tears slid down her cheeks just the same too. 

_"I can't breathe. This feels good."_ Kris thought as a tingling sensation started to pulsate from each time they kissed. Her wall cracked. She felt something brush past the tip of her lip - a match from a matchbox being lit. _"I haven't been this out of breath since we scaled the mountains. The air was thin. How is he abl...e to make me feel the same? I thought..he couldn't use magic?"_ Her mind continued to drift away as her mouth slowly lowered her drawbridge more and more till they were wide open. Yet the ramming from the battering ram ceased. The intruders that wanted to charge in stayed at the far end of the drawbridge. The rocking wasn't as intense.

Marth was holding her head up from two critical points; a hooked finger wrapped around her chin, and by the leaver that was her ponytail. With all the movement and actions he acted upon her, he was able to get her to open her mouth so they could french kiss - yet he was stopping himself. He spent all this time picking the lock to the door he wanted to enter and was now staring at it. He had his eyes now open to check on Kris.

Marth felt the tears rolling down her red cheeks and saw the glazed-over mist that vailed over her delphinium-colored eyes. Her wildflowers were lost in a rolling fog. Her breathing was sporadic. The snot from her ugly crying before was blocking her nostrils to the point where she wasn't trying to breathe from there anymore. Kris was only using her mouth for air. Marth stopped the kiss yet kept their lips together to see if she could continue to try to use her mouth or switch to her nose.

 _"I can't have her passing out on me. I can wait for her to catch up."_ Marth patiently thought to himself.

His delay did give her a second to fight the membrane of snot to breath. The tequila shot of oxygen splashed over the sparks and kindle that were in Kris's body. The little fire that lit from the trio of elements fueled Kris to gain her strength back. The small inferno in her body was not sustainable compared to Marth's superior technique and experience. But Marth's wood in his fire was made out of old water-filled logs. They've been damp with his tears and sorrow ever since Caeda left him. And here came marching in Kris into his gloomy camp, taking a swig of moonshine, and throwing the rest of the drink on his measly wet excuse of a campfire. As limited as it was, the alcohol burned its sloppy fire as the two continued to dance in their silent pocket away from the world. The thief didn't expect the treasure he was looking for would fling open the door he worked so hard to lockpick. Marth didn't know the most combustible thing in this draughty classroom wasn't the books, but each other.

Her chest smeared across his, and the fat of her tits filled in the cracks of his pecks. Her hands, positioned as if they were just dancing, were struck with strength with a blessed thunderbolt from the heavens. Marth's left bicep was being manhandled by her whole hand. She used his arm as tightly he'd cling onto the rocking railing of a ship. Kris used his right sholder to pull herself up as mindlessly one would trust the stability of a latter. Her thighs slid across the lower half of his body and nestled softly right in his crotch. She fought against his hands that held her head back. She naturally cocked her head so she could go in a deep kiss with Marth.

Kris stroked the length of his tongue. She stopped right after feeling so many tastebuds triggering, and the texter to for her was wildly bizarre. The intoxicated flame flickered for her as she opened her eye - while Marth's have been keeping his shocked eyes wide open this whole time.

 _"Wait, is this even right to do?"_ She thought as she was only looking at the empty shelf over Marth's shoulder. She was encouraged to keep going and not look back to check his reaction because of Marth's unmistakable moans of approval. Curious as a cat, she explored his mouth. She licked the backside of his teeth, tickled the roof of his mouth, and clinched their teeth together to feel the vibrations from their teeth rattle their skulls - that felt nauseating for the both of them. The flinching both shared didn't sway her from experimenting more. She shoveled his spit around in his mouth - which felt nice! She moaned in a simple bliss as she played with his tongue so she could keep tasting him.

Marth felt her smiling in the kiss as she was having a playful thought. _"Oh, now I get why I wanted to 'eat' him before! This is what my body was telling me to do all along! Gods, I'm glad I never said I had that impulse - that would have been so embarrassing. No wonder why I can tolerate the bit of acid I'm tasting from when he spewed on me just now. I like kissing him! I had no idea how much fun this'd feel!"_

Kris was stroking his left arm so much that the sleave started to unravel. It was as if the forces that were told her to slow down - a shame she couldn't read the signals well. A bit of drool came out the side of his lip and drip down his face. Kris pulled back to lick his jawline and slid back the drool in his mouth to keep the mess inside his lips. She was giggling - while his moaning kept increasing rapidly in volume. 

Marth was breaking into a sweat. In order to breathe while Kris completely controlled his mouth, he was huffing from his nose as fast as he could. Kris long escaped the Marth's fingers that held her chin, yet they stayed there like a stone. Frozen too was the hand that held her ponytail. Her knotted hair still wrapped itself around his fingertips. His mind jittered the same thought as his wide eyes stared at the high ceiling. _"Oh god. Oh god. Oh god. Oh god. Oh god. Oh god. Oh god. Oh god. Oh god. Oh god. Oh god. Oh god. Oh god. Oh god. Oh god. Oh god. Oh god."_

With each repeating thought, his moans were growing louder to the point he was moaning at a speaking volume. Kris responded with an ever small 'mew' of a moan back to him. The loving chill rattled his eyes and hands made them break from their stony stances and relax. He could finally think as he left one hand hanging on the back of her hair while his other rested on his lap. _"I'm so glad I don't have to worry about her ...not liking this part of our dance."_

With each putter from his nose, Marth's neck started to relax and let the back of his head rest on the spine of the shelf right behind him. Kris pulled and pushed herself closer. With his head cocked back, he could just look up at her giving it her all. He was hardly moving yet his heart pounded hearing the sloshing in his mouth. He could tell she was that entranced with the taste of him.

His pounding heart thundered more as his mind started to sing thoughts to it to make it race more. _"Kris...I would have been dead if you didn't end up in my life. There's no one I think who could make me feel this whole since Caeda left this world."_ The thought of Caeda's smile flashed through his mind. A water bucket full of his pain was thrown at the fire Kris and Marth made. The grease and oil Kris used for their passion just made the fire from their love explosively spread throughout Marth's whole body. 

His sword hand slapped Kris's exposed thigh. She attempted to pull back and squeak in pain, but the hand on her hair kept her down. Both of his fingers clenched her body - the one of her head pulled her close, the other stroked her thigh. He was back with commanding her, and now was controlling her whole body. His nails left long red marks as he clenched her thigh. She was singing high notes with her nose as he was playing her like an instrument.

Their heads cocked and rocked. He chose when Kris was allowed to breathe from her mouth - which the poor inexperienced Kris didn't know she had to breathe through her nose. She made with the most she could from her limited windows. The air from her nose that did escaped puttered through the membrane of snot just like before. The grip Marth had on the back of her head allowed him to rotate her whole head allowing to make the walls of her mouth explore him rather than him exploring her. He still pushed in, and explored too, but the fact she was being used again made Kris shrill out her whimpers of pleasure. The only thing louder than their cooing was the floorboard they sat on that cried each time Marth made them tilt their heads.

The taste of the both of them was shooting down each other's mouths during their body grinding tango. Marth could power through the discomfort just fine, but Kris started to choke. She was coughing into his mouth, making the pools of their drool spill out and add yet another layer of filth to drizzle on her chewed-up shirt. Preservation started to kick in as she started to fight against his hand. She was too weak to pull back by herself, but Marth could read the cue. He first closed his eyes before he pulled back. Kris started to cough spit across his face. Once he heard her finally breathing he opened his eye to wink at her with a smile. He saw her breathless, flustered, crying, drooling like a fool, but docile. The same tame unassertiveness aura of her expression was the same dual nature of an open meadow. Blink and you could have a battle in that open area - blink again and you were just watching nature. He loved that he was looking at the latter.

"Through your nose." He whispered as he pulled his sword hand from her thigh to pinch the bottom of her chin. He was keeping her mouth closed by pinching in her cheeks to encourage her to give it a try.

“It’s stuffy”. She said through her somewhat squished puckered lips.

Marth started to enter a soft long laughing fit as he let go of her. Her blunt charm calmed their flame for now. Kris pulled back as she was able to enjoy his laughter as well. Yet one of her hands reached up and started to rub her lip in utter fascination. “How did you make it tingle?” She mumbled to herself as she was inspecting her own body.

As Kris was unknowingly sexually pleasing herself while sitting right on Marth’s lap, Marth just watched her. Not because Marth monkey brain say so, but because he was fascinated by her actions. She did move a little like a baby chimp as she was inspecting her own face; She’d rub her upper lip, the tingling would get too much, then she jerked back looking at her own finger thinking it was her hand that caused it. She was cycling through all her fingers and different ways of rubbing her mouth to see if it was her hands that made her feel good, or if it was her lips that just get this way.

Marth marveled at her as she innocently explored her body, yet while watching her he saw her imperfections - or rather; the imperfections he forced upon her. She was a sloppy wet mess. Marth forced a crooked smile as he was eyeing her from head to toe. _“As much as I don’t wish to move, It’d be wrong to leave her like this”._ He thought to himself. “ _She tore off my vest so I don’t have anything that I could - wait no - not with that attitude I don’t.”_

He then promptly tore off his left sleeve like their first fated night home, which made Kris gasp, but then scowl at him. “Marth, you need to stop doing that!” She pouted, as Marth undid the button that kept the sleeve rolled up in the first place after taking it off.

“My mother would be willing to slice her own clothing off to take care of my cuts.” Marth told his tale with a smile as his eyes were focused on unraveling the cloth so he could have more clean fabric to work with. “How is this any different from when you gave me your belt?”

Kris clasped her hands right over her breasts as she looked wide-eyed at her bright sun. She then felt the slime on her shirt and jerked her hand away. "Ew." She whimpered

Marth quickly seized her hands and wiped them clean with his cloth. He had a tender smile as he took care of her. “May I clean you, Please? You’ve been through enough.” 

Kris’s heart pounded like a slow drum with a lot of thudding reverb. It was a steady pump that made her own skeleton started to shift underneath under all her muscle. She felt uncomfortable under her own skin. It was just the way that he whisked her hands away and made them spotless in a snap that stole her breath. “Y-Yes you may… Everywhere please. But just, I’m _pretending_ you’re not touching me” She responded with her eyes closed tight - shaking nervously. She heard Marth huff, then felt him lean to her, then her forehead was kissed.

“Don’t be scared. It’s just us here.” He said as he stroked her face and nose clean.

“Even still. Everywhere, please.” Kris said out loud as she covered her eyes. She couldn’t see but she felt Marth breathing another sigh as he went to rub down her chest, legs, belly, stroking quickly but efficiently. He made her spick and span. While Kris was covering her eyes she tried to distract herself with the pounding of her reverb heartbeat and her own thoughts;

“ _He already said he loves me? No… I didn’t want it to be said like that! That’s not how this is suppose to go! He’s making me feel so good - every damn day I’ve been holding back on saying it till the Ball. But he up and goes to say it!? It’s not fair! I-I think I can let that first kiss slide, that felt so good, but damn it! Damn it all! Why couldn't he wait for that for the ball!? At this rate, I'm gonna accidentally ask if I could have his hand-"_

“Kris, are you okay?” Marth asked as he was rubbing her cheeks. “You’re crying again”.

Kris opened her eyes and looked through her finger cracks. Marth was inches away from her face as he was cleaning her cheeks once more. He looked worryingly at her, but still held a smile; “Please, tell me what’s wrong. Are you still feeling scared?”

Kris could only lower her head as she twirled her hands together, trying to find the words to say, but ended up only looking miserable. Marth took pity on his little button and put his damp rag to the side and hugged her and stroked her back. “Just tell me when you can. I’ll do anything to make you feel better. Anything.”

She let out a low moan hearing that offer, but kept her lude thoughts from impeding her sense of duty. Her knightly pride as a woman was being tarnished by Marth's ' _hastiness'_. Kris rested her head against her favorite pillow, but kept her hands still down into her lap. She sighed nervously into his neck, which made his skin crawl. “Did you mean it when you said you loved me?” She asked.

“Of course, why wouldn’t I not mean it?” Marth replied.

Kris hissed. “Why’d you do that?”

Marth looked at the back of her head pleasantly surprised. “You told me that a confession should come naturally.”

She pushed away from his chest as she clenched her teeth. Her voice went all high pitched. “But there was a big ball coming up! A fancy swing-ding! That would have been perfect! Yet instead you say it after you chewed on my shirt and threw up on me!?”

Marth’s smile couldn’t go away, despite how shocked he was. “But that was when I knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you - _for sure_ this time!”

“NO!!” Kris’s note was as high as a songbird's. “You’re suppose to wait for the most romantic moment to say something like that!”

He blinked at her as he repressed his laughter - but not his joy. “Wouldn’t that be forced?”

Kris sighed as she shifted from sitting on her knees to firmly flopping her tushy on his lap. She could finally give her feet a break and rapped around him intrinsically. Despite moving closer, she felt more distant with how her arms were folded and looking away. Marth cupped her face to slowly chip away at her pouting. His persistence always outlasted her resistance. 

“I think we’re inverting our issues upon one another”. Marth guided her with a smile.

“I don’t understand what you said.” She confessed as she adjusted her gaze.

“I’m trying to think like you, and you just so happened to try to think like me.” He said as he gave her an eskimo’s kiss - their nose tips touching. Though it wasn’t lip play, it did give her an equal sense of calmness as she closed her eyes. Marth continued; “And I quite like how you think - it’s liberating”.

“But It’s not as grand - it’s just simple. Basic.” She sighed as she rubbed her nose tip against his. Her poor little heart pumped faster than his ever did. “I’m living with you now. We can’t do everything like I do. It just felt-…. It felt ‘completing’ if we kept waiting, if that makes any sense. I wanted the moment to be special.”

“Don’t you already feel the same about me?” He presented the elephant in the classroom to her. He pulled back and looked at her misty eyes that stared only at him. He loved that look. “If you respond - I’ll have it not count as your confession. I promise.”

Her eyes fluttered as she drifted her eyes away to weigh his words, before overing her dreamy eye’ed stare at her lover and nodded her head in response. He huffed in satisfaction. “Then this is an easy issue to solve!” He was proud to announce; “This is just a practice drill”.

Her head perked up with intrigue in her wide eyes at the far more familiar terms. “A practice drill”?

He nodded his head in agreement. “Half of our dance is about confidence, isn’t it? And this is our practice room. Until we announce it, everything we do is between us. So until then - we can practice all that lovers do in here. You still wanted to practice kissing, right?”

Kris hummed a moan of agreement, which did in fact made Marth’s monkey brain do another backflip, before he rushed to put said monkey in his cage. He blinked twice before talking. “Then we can even practice saying our confessions till you think the moment is right.” He narrowed his eyes softly at her with a blushed smile growing. “I’ll even let you choose when it becomes official- that is - when we get to say we love each other in publicly. I think that’d be a perfect balance of both worlds. What do you say?”

Kris shuffled in her favorite new seat and tucked in her smile into her chest. Once again she moaned out her high-pitched yes to him. Marth monkey slipped out of its cage and was doing cartwheels to the control panel of his body, but before he could get it back in his cage again - what she said put both monkey Marth and the sane man to give her their full attention.

“I love you then”. She whimpered happily to him.

Marth’s smile faded, only because so much blood was going to his cheeks. She did not break eye contact but shimmied around coy-like.

“I think I fell in love with you the moment I heard you laugh so loudly, in front of everyone! It was when you changed to me. From a leader and friend, to a man that I could love”. She rested her hand on her own cheek as she looked away in blissful thought. “Maybe having the war stuff be finally behind us made the whole world clear-er to see. Sorry I’m, not talking the most proper.”

She looked back up at him for approval, but saw him only being melted by her words. His softly clenched sword fist was held up to his mouth as he was trying to cover his expression, which only made him look more bashful. Yet in that bliss there was a slash of worry that started to deflate Marth’s mood like a leaking balloon. He looked upon her with a stoic face.

“Never ask me who I love more.” He requested formally.

“Frankly, I think I loved her more than I loved you as my lord, so that wouldn’t be an issue.” She retorted in a proper tone.

 _That_ took him by surprise as he jerked back his body. “What?” He asked casually and in shock.

Kris huffed as she kept her formalities up. “During the war before she left us, Caeda asked me when she was teaching me how to cook if it could be the three of us.” Kris clasped her hands in prayer and had the same gentle aura she had when she was hugging Caeda’s spear. “Even though I was atrocious at cooking, she loved my company that much. I always felt that I was intruding on her love for you - simply because of my gender. I took immense pride in my devotion to protect you but then worried I overstepped my boundaries. To then be recognized by the woman I feared, and then welcomed into her life with open arms? I felt as much bliss as kissing you hear - Marth. It was magical - and though she holds her own masquerades with others, I felt that she was truthful. She was that comfortable with me. Her lost impacted me as much as it’s impacted you.”

Old wounds were being slashed open for Marth that he thought were long healed over. With their flame but an ember, another heaping bucket of water was enough to dilute the alcohol and sizzle the flame out cold.

Marth held his twitching heart - scowling in pain. “Do you think she’d approve of us?”

Kris tilted her head to the side with a worried smile stretching across her face. “Speaking as a woman myself, I can not give you a definitive answer-“

Marth cut her off as he was looking at his own heart. “Don’t talk as a Dame, speak as my lover”.

Kris blinked at Marth - shocked he was able to pick up when she used her knightly voice. She grew red in the face wondering just how long did he know she put up a proper act sometimes. She then cleared her throat before talking.

“Well, I ain’t too sure about that. I remember when I eavesdropped on Elice saying that this Ball was for you and I was downright green with envy. I can’t honestly say how she would react If I just came in.” She paused, seeing that her words were just adding stones on his back - more weight to carry. She smiled to lift his mood and leaned into his view.

“But I do know this, she was madly in love with you. She’d want you happy”.

Marth looked past her - and took her down with him along the way too. “Her actions didn’t express that, Kris.”

Her foxy nature couldn’t cheer up this sad ol’ bloodhound as he still was looking at the floor. She had worry stitched across her face as he let the melancholy wash away the joy he felt. Kris reached out to his cheek nice and steady and made Marth look at her. She mimed what he did for her when they first kissed and moved his head for him. She rested her forehead on his.

That’s all she did.

Marth looked up at her, and saw her closing her eyes, and was simply connecting heads with him with a consistent smile adorning her face. Even if the monkey in his head was pounding on the controls - his body couldn’t move when the numbness swept in. This time though, he was able to fight it, bit by bit. His small victory, for now, was being able to push just a small ounce more strength back upon Kris’s loving gesture and rest his eyes too.

Seven minutes passed, he counted every second. He opened his eyes to see if she was still there, and Kris didn’t move from her spot. He exhaled a sigh of relief from his mouth.

“Through your nostrils”. Echoed Kris.

Marth narrowed his attention to her, and thought about why she said that but pulled back in astonishment when he realized she was copying him. She gave him a very large smirk. “See Master? Your apprentice knows a thing or two about kissing already.”

“No you don’t” He was quick to snark back. But seeing her slowly open her misty blue eyes at him made him tone down all edge he had.

“Then do you feel ready for another practice drill?” Kris asked as she put her hands behind her back and swayed her shoulders, still on his lap. “I didn’t think it was just to force my will when you looked so sad like that…” She sheepishly murmured in her button cute pitch. “I would love it, as much as I love you”.

Marth monkey banging on controls in Marth brain finally switch worked after cool down sad now gone. His hands grasped the side of her face and pulled her into another kiss. He didn't force himself back in her for he loved it when she was the first to initiate. That didn't stop him from encouraging her though. He held her head as he leaned backwards. The stupid man was falling to the ground now. The back of Marth's head went ‘ka-thunk-a-dunk’ on each of the lower shelves of the bookshelf behind him. Kris was yelping the whole way down till she was laying on top of Marth. Heart racing, she wrestled a pushup off of the drunkenly smiling monkey man.

“What’s gotten into you!?” She gasped.

He attempted to pull her down, but her sturdy arms shivered while she kept her upper body weight up by her own arms. He stopped putting stress onto her then and let her relax into it on her own terms. He grinned at her.

“I’ve just waited so long for this. It’s hard to hold back my excitement.” Marth beamed.

“Are you even in pain? That sounded like it hurt - your hand, now your head!” She asked in a panic.

“Well, there’s been worse pain” Marth sighed dreamily.

Kris looked away with a misty look of embarrassment. Marth reached up and stroked the side of her head to comfort her. Her neck caved into the direction of his palm despite her harder exterior which made Marth’s beaming turn into radiating.

Kris drew a shaken inhale before speaking. “I-I have a question, what exactly d-do I do with my hands while we do this? It’s hard to hold you like when we dance when you’re moving.”

Marth turned his head away as his eyes squinted shut - full of jovial giddy and glee. He slid his eyes when he was speaking to her as he slyly pulled from his vocabulary the correct carrots to guide her along. “I’ll _demonstrate_ you that after you get this _basic technique_ down first. For now, just view this as _practice swings_.” He said with a smug smirk.

“P-Practice swings. Right.” She nodded her head while lowering her body from a push-up position to planking over him.

“Kris, you don’t need to be working out while we do this too.” He said with his eyes half open at her.

An embarrassed sweat drop went down the side of her cheek, but she stuck to her goals. “ _Hey,_ you said kiss you if you were fine with my knightly side - and I need to stay in shape”.

“Working out does not make you relaxed for this.” He attempted to correct her.

“We can’t be both idiots who are smashing their bodies into the room. Someone needs to be the spotter!” She countered.

Marth pinched the nerve in-between his eyes as he had to think of a way to rope her into doing this with him. “Kris do you recall the tingling you felt?” She perked up her head in intrigue. His heart started to pound faster seeing he was hitting a gold spot. “ _Oh dear, I just had the mental image she’ll view kissing as an actual workout. I’m terrified.”_ He thought to himself extremely excited about this possible future.

“Go on”, she beckoned as Marth steadied himself the best he could. He was able to get her out of the planking position and just ‘be’ on top of him. The stray vines of her ponytail draped around all sides of his face. His hand started to shake being in a similar situation with his past lover. Yet rather than pain, the familiarity of this made the floor feel a lot less chilling to be on. For a second, he could pretend he was laying on his bed - _with her_. Kris’s voice was the only thing that broke the illusion for him along with the creaking of the floorboards when she leaned closer to him in curiosity. “What about the tingling?”

His dilating eyes relaxed as he was brought back to reality. He shook out a huff to steady himself. “It’s just as tiring as a work out” He assured her. “The tingling you feel is just as good as breaking a sweat. It’s all about staying in that sweet zone as long as you can tolerate it”.

“Oh so it’s like a pain tolerance drill my grandfather would give me, but it feels good?” She spoke of painful memories of being gut-punched repetitively with a tender fondness. Marth’s beating heart made him nod in agreement - blocking the horrific mental image from manifesting in his mind. She gave him a wide smile. “That’s great! I love how it felt! Could you move my head again? I’m not too sure how to do that right yet”.

“ _She’s as cute as a button.”_ Marth’s shaking mind drifted as he reached up to her face. As he stroked her cheek, he reached to her ponytail with his other hand and pulled out her tie. He waited to see her relaxed and stared at her get slightly startled by her hair falling around her face. Yet when she looked back down at him in loving approval he flicked her tie off of his finger and lowered her head closer to his face. He had to be careful not to drop her when he saw her hazy blue eyes, and he lost a bit of strength in his arms. They gingerly reclined their lips upon one another once again. Marth was unsure how Kris felt, but for him, a vortex of warmth blew through his chilling insides as Kris’s long blue hair draped over the entirety of his face like a weeping willow over a river’s bend. His thoughts were coasting along that very river;

“ _She’s not like her, I know that already. But I had no idea seeing her hair shroud me like Caeda’s would give me the same euphoria”._ He softly shifted her head as they kissed, making sure she was breathing first of course. He had to pull her back as she gasped for breath - not yet perfecting breathing through her nose during this physical task. “ _Maybe that’s what the casanova Samto meant when he offhandedly said I had ‘to find my type’. Wish I could tell him I understood him now.”_ As Kris’s arms gave way with her body relaxing on top of him, Marth’s arms wrapped around Kris slowly more and more. His right sword hand burrowed through her unkempt hair. He used the knots to trap himself as well as he’d grip the grooves of a blacksmith’s grooved sword handle. With now being able to turn or pull her head around with only one hand, his left sleeveless hand trailed down her back just like how his thoughts drifted away on his mental river into blissful absent-mindedness; _“But let’s not focus on that for now . . . .”_

Both steadily gained acceleration with their shifting - their breathing breaks - and the gradual aptitude to molt off the shells that trapped them in each other’s masks. She was getting better. Kris’s first glimpse of a confidence boost was feeling Marth’s groan from the depths of his vocal cords. At first, Dame Kris thought she hurt her prince and fought with all her might to pull back to ask if he was alright. The strength of the Hero King was needed to keep her at bay, but even with his mighty sword arm he could only keep her from fully pulling away. It took her heart and trust in him to guide her back down before they kissed again. This struggle repeated several more times for he made no effort to repress the bliss she was making him feel. It was worth it for him to pull her after every hesitation. Thankfully, these struggles grew less over time - with her only flinching whenever he moaned. These flinch though, too, faded to only a slight rattling in her knees against the floor and the sides of his body.

Unlike Marth’s willingness to cluck like a sleepy rooster - Kris was silent as a resting hen. This didn’t sway Marth’s confidence that she enjoyed this for he could read the other tells her body told. He’d let his guiding hand go limp, and she was coasting across his lips just fine. He pushes her off her target, and she stubbornly went back to pressing their closed lips against one another. He couldn’t kiss other parts of her body as he wished too - but her stubbornness to keep kissing his lips charmed him so much that Marth let her do as she wished. Her hands were supporting her as if her grandfather was stepping down on her back. Her nails dug into the cracks of the wood planks. She was still very stiff yet her excitement was there. He only needed now to pull back her head so that he could catch his breath before their closed lips connected yet again.

Still, his deviant mind lingered about how he could make her feel the joy he was having, for she was silent as the dark night itself. She lacked even the grunts that’d come from exerting the effort, not even the subtle cricket chirps of the evening came from her. What started as a selfish lustful though transformed into a genuine concern for him - Marth felt that she was thinking too much.

His left hand - that so far has only been dormant on the groove of her back - started to trail down the side of her exposed belly. He scoot closer to her hip and was pausing frequently to see if he was overstepping his boundaries. Not once she made a reaction. Marth’s left hand soon parked where one would rest their hand on their hip. Such an innocent location to do to upon one’s self, yet to Kris, the experience of another man to hold her like this was otherworldly. Her eyes open as her limits were being pushed - and stared at her lover who has been watching her facial reactions the entire time.

Marth’s harden stare was a look Kris was used to seeing. It was one he adorn as he looked over the battlefield then turn to her for her input. A look he gave her when he was weighing the costs of human life, and how to protect as many souls as he could. That fire-forged concentration was being directed to her and her alone now. She parted to allow the honored gasp to escape her lips. Her eyes wilted, from wide eyed astonishment to a gentle noble air of mystery as she did not speak her consent nor even question what his next actions entailed. Rather, she prayed her actions spoke for her - and placed all her trust into him. She closed her eyes and softly embraced his closed lips once again. He looked at her, the cluelessness he was left in made him hesitate on his goals. Only when he felt her knees shuffle closer along both sides of his body did he allow himself to let his eyes drift yet again and to enjoy the moment.

His left palm rested the side of her ass as a final check of approval or rejection from her. Yet as he went to press down, the overabundance of skin made him stop applying so much force. He let Kris take full lead with the kiss as Marth furrowed his brow. His fingertips glided over her skin and her underwear. This was the first groan of approval Marth got from her, but he metaphorically backhanded that treat away from Marth Monkey Brain with the might he would smack an amateur soldier attempting to stab Marth. His left hand’s fingertips continued to investigate Kris’s hips, and came to the conclusion that she had only her underwear on. He pulled back his hand as his index finger twitched in thought. _“She was wearing a skirt, right?”_

Using only his core muscles he started to sit up, and used both hands to guide Kris to sit in his lap again. Kris flawlessly mastered the kissing battle technique of shifting stance, for she didn’t break the rhythm. She moaned a song note of approval which - again - Marth had to smack away that treat from Monkey Mind. Marth Monkey sad at no treat from pretty female monkey yet. Marth, however, was growing weary for their safety.

With one hand he cocked Kris’s head back till it was flat on his palm - like he was holding a bowl of hot stew. She purred in a sliver of bliss that she was his food now. She nestled into the curves of his face, and sighed whenever he was now swaying her head from side to side. Marth in reality was simply using her relaxed body as a pivoting point as he leered across the classroom. “ _I took her belt - but where is her skirt?”_ Marth thought that someone was in this humble bastion.

Marth pulled the hair over his ear and cupped it to better listen to the sounds of the room.The only creeping thing he heard was the passing of time. He huffed while in thought. “ _Maybe she just took it off when I wasn’t looking? I didn’t take her to be that excited. Still, somthing is not right. She wouldn’t do that.”_ He looked down at the floor around them and simply saw that her skirt slipped down her plump thighs. A sweat drop of embarrassment rolled down his cheek as he sighed in relief. “ _Oh_ … _Well, she did make this outfit by ripping the middle section out of a perfectly good dress. I should have guessed that’s why she needed that belt.”_ He glanced to where it was, and it was at the front of the classroom where he chucked it before. In his moment of unity with Kris - the distance from the back of the class to the front felt like a fortnight trip away. Even still; the impulse of Normal polite Marth was there and would have made that trip to retrieve the article of clothing he threw away from her. “ _She didn’t consent to this. I know her. She didn’t know her skirt slipped off.”_ was the mindset he was about to act upon. Yet hungry Monkey Marth was screeching and held the control stick of Marth body - made stupid man stay sitting. Keep kissing. Hungry monkey very grumpy. The duality of his double stupidity was making the man blush and smile while in his kiss.

He conjured a plan to please both hungry monkey and his moral compass. He tested to see if he could let go of Kris’s head before acting upon his idea. Marth witnessed that her face stuck to him like a magnet. His hands heldthe sides of her rips. Holding and stroking her entire body with the same force an artisan hast to mold pottery on a spinning wheel, his mind lit up in ecstasy when she started to whimper for more. His strong hands relaxed when he reached the base of his vase he just crafted and went in for the decorative touches.

The cut of the makeshift skirt wasn’t circular around the whole length. There was slits on the side that allowed her legs to move freely. This was by design to accommodate the Swordmaster’s fast footwork for they traded armor for speed. The thinner part of the fabric made for a perfect spot to tie the skirt to her white underwear. On each side of her hips now was a cute little black and white bow.

Kris felt the action, but didn’t know the result and looked down at her skirt. She broke from the kiss as she covered her lips in shock, and a blush of embarrassment shot across her face. Marth, in the name of pleasing his monkey impulses, showcased the bow she was looking at by tugging on it. He then let the elasticity of her undergarments snap back the bow to her body. He looked down at her with a joyful grin that radiated warmth to her.

Marth felt he was suddenly choking. His eyes popped. Kris clenched Marth’s tattered shirt like she was in a tavern brawl. The poor man thought he was about to be beaten for crossing a line. Kris then decked him across the face - verbally. “This is why I love you!” Kris Monkey Brain then put the petal to metal.

Kris threw the front of her body on top of his as she kissed him again. Both of the stupid monkeys fell back onto the floor. After so long Kris letting her hands limply hanging, he was taken off guardwhen she was gripping the sides of his face. She was swiftly picking up on the kissing battle technique of hand usages, but her forum lacked any grace, just brute strength. She was breaking into a sweat. Her nails cut trails against the grain of his skull.

Marth’s hand’s slipped both in-between them and through her hair to push her back in an effort to calm her down. “Kris.” He whispered to his panting partner.

Her hands trembled as if she just did her ten country mile jog. “I love you so much” She gasped. He wasn’t sure if it was sweat or tears that were falling on his face - the veil of her long hair blocked much of the already dim light of the class. He felt her pushing against his god-given strength. She was a non-believer who believed they were stronger than the might of divinity. Caeda too, defied him in their own ways. Caeda undermined him with her cunning wit and stunning charm. It was the challenge to keep up with the women he loved that drove him forward to better himself as a man. Here he was trying to enjoy the moment and Kris was ready to plank during the entire session. It was evident he couldn’t ignore, for it was in Kris’s defiance that made him remember why he loved Caeda - and still loves her. His rejecting arm of Kris’s advancements didn’t move from blocking her. Kris’s hair covered his conflicted expression. Not even Monkey Marth could take control - for monkey Marth missed his monkey Caeda too.

The abnormal blocking put Kris in a state of confusion and she pulled back part of her hair to better see Marth’s face. He was looking past her again, through her collar bone. A shiver of fear chilled her burning face as she helped pull Marth back up. She got off of his lap and sat in front of him. “Hey. you still here, buddy?” she asked.

It took one whole second before Marth was able to blink. He looked at her and gave a sparrow-sized head nod before he hunched over and held his head with a hollowed and slightly angered stare. “What was that?” He murmured to himself. Kris sat on her knees to the side of him as she waited for him. Though to the uncertainty of who that question was directed to, she tilted her head at him. Marth picked up the cue and continued to talk his thoughts out loud to the open air. “It was just a wave of sadness from how you acted? From how you looked - I think. Nothing you did was bad, but suddenly it was. I can’t put my finger on it.”

The spirit of the rooster that was in Marth’s soul now turned into stone. The rooster-ornamental weathervane spun in circles as the still air blew past him. His head and eyes turned back and forth as he was looking for why he felt that chilling of Caeda again - a criminal with no face. Kris though was able to solve who the culprit was with only those few clues. An idea struck her as she left his side for now.

She returned from the front of the class with one of their few remaining glass potion bottles of water from the front desk and let it drop from her hand. He caught it, but had no intention of drinking it as he simply toyed with it in his hands. A glimmering caught Marth’s attention as he saw her twirling his tiara that Dennis Monty Grail graciously returned after visiting the castle to complete trades. Marth cocked his eyebrow as he watched her continue to walk past him, grab one of their empty bottles, then sat back in front of him. She used the edge of the tiara to smash the glass potion bottle, making yet another mess they had to clean up before they leave today. He didn’t ask what she was doing but kept his confused scorn as she reached for her discarded tie and bounded her hair back up into a ponytail. His scorn turned into a look of trembling astonishment when she took one of the larger fragments of the razor-sharp glass and offered to cut her own hair for him in one grand gesture.

She was willing to change her appearance so she didn’t resemble Caeda anymore. She awaited his order with a neutral stare. Marth’s trembling eyes were accompanied with his pained face rushing back into a full blush. Marth’s gut was telling her to stop, but he couldn’t reject the simple logic Kris was doing to at least consider it. But Monkey Marth liked long hair though. Marth smacked his head with his palm to get his other thoughts to shut up. He then awkwardly coiled and held his upper eyebrow, the place were he just hit.

“Please stop hurting yourself, Sire.” Dame Kris said. Prince Marth gave her a slide eye of annoyance before he went back to think about what he was going to ask her to do. His cute button Kris then interrupted Marth’s think track. “You’re too sexy for that”. she cooed while wiggling her hips.

The juxtaposition made him snort out laughter while Kris snickered like a sly fox. The joke helped mellowed out his mood. He was able to swiftly respond. “Even if you did that and more, I’d still think of her”. He spoke with a decaying but lingering smile.

Kris brushed aside the glass shards into the broken bottle and placed it on the desk before returning to sit in front of him on the floor. “Im okay with you still thinking about her, Sire. - I mean Marth. Marth…. Sorry. _Marth_. I’m still fine with it. When I heard that Elice was trying to get strangers to court with you it filled me with rage. I felt no one else in the world would be equipped to handle your lulls but me. I want to be with you till the end of my days. I’m already halfway there as your knight, aren’t I?”

Kris had that innocent smile he loved seeing - as cute as a button. Marth’s dynamic range of emotions shifted yet again to a hyper-focus that he had while analyzing the battlefield. She remained smiling, even though he had such a hard stare inspecting her figure.

“I see… You’re right”. He spoke with his authoritative voice. “Lower your hair again.”

“Certainly” She responded with a smile. She closed her eyes as she was rolling the tie from her hair. “I do quite enjoy our kissing drills, but should we try going through some of our sets for now? A dance will lift your spirits thousandfold.” She took the offering of water she gave him, his crown, and hair tie to the nearest tabletop. While placing everything away, she glanced where Marth was sitting, but he vanished. Fear sunk into her soul.

“No.” Marth said while standing behind her. Kris spun around and Marth seized her wrist and head when she was facing him. He took one step forward, forcing her to sit on the table, and pinned her legs to its edge with the weight of his body.

“I’m out of practice”. Marth said as the same focused stare met her hazy timid eyes.

“M-Marth…” she puttered from her lips as her free hand gripped the woodgrain of the table.

Feeling no resistance he kissed her again. The swiftness of him claiming her made her cluck out a moan. Yet unlike before, Marth expressed his passion for a narrow-minded purpose. He needed to drill a hole in his dread and fill it with thoughts of only Kris.

He couldn’t live his life in this type of fear - even if it was the only fear he could ever conquer in his days left in this world. His family needed to continue their lineage to maintain peace. He needed his sister safe from the crushing dread to carry the weight he was born to carry for her.And now, he knew that Caeda would just simply want him happy. Caeda did everything to try to make Marth happy no matter how flawed it was from his way of seeing things. He needed to try to make room in his heart for one more lover, _for her_.


	10. “If I were to die... I'm sure that the person I love would be sad. I wonder... Can one believe in love everlasting? I have faith in the power of love... I always have and always will." She thought to herself while listening to the two of them read.

There was a fleeting warmth in Marth’s chest. Only the embers remained, and all he had now was to trust that the coals were hot enough to light the fire again. He couldn’t give, he had to take, but the frigidity spirits that clung his heart refused to break. He was growing worried - the arctic chill made his moves grow dull - the glacial size of his task would not let up. He’s scaled the tallest of mountains where the air grew too thin to breathe - to the depths of the earth where its magma blood flowed free. Her being gone was still the greatest trial among them all. The pain numbed. The pain burned. The pain controlled him - up until he heard her whispering his name.

“Marth…”

He was standing still in the empty classroom, trapping Kris’s legs with his body as she was sitting on top of one of the heavy wood tables. Their lips were only a coin’s edge away from each other. Both of their arms wrapped around in an embrace. Kris whispered to him again finally finding a pause in their kiss.

“Are you okay?”

He frowned. He rested his forehead on her and at least made their noses still kiss. “I’m still thinking about her. I keep failing you. You’d want me to love you with my whole heart.”

“But I already love you.”

“It’s not about what you feel - It’s about how I feel about you. I can’t be your lover if I’m still with her”.

“If it truly is about yourself, then never say what I need or want again. I still love you, even if you can’t love me back with all your heart”.

The slight fault in his logic made him pull back his head and let out a low grunt. She pushed her head forward to maintain the distance they had before.

Kris slid her nose down so that their lips once again almost touched. “So what if you can’t give me your whole heart? Everything else that has happened between us is still true. That love is still real to me. You give your heart out to everyone you meet.”

He softly groaned as he slid the side of his nose along hers - no different from their swords in their spars.

Marth pulled his head back, but that made Kris push forward. “You told me you fought for hatred, but I say it is not so. You fought for the people and the lives that were lost. You always fought for love - as ugly as mine was.”

"Kris..." He could only moan out.

She pulled back. “…As ugly as mine was…” She echoed again, while adorning her own thousand yard stare. The rush of battle. The joy of seeing a dead man underneath her feet. The roar of the arena’s crowd. The feeling of accomplishment. The approval of her dead Grandfather.

Marth was seeing his own reflection. To keep her from her own hell, Marth leaned forward and gave a love bite to her own neck. Her legs escaped him and kicked out in reflex. She gasped out a moan, but as swift as his strike was he pulled back. She let go of his body with one hand and felt up her own neck. “The heck was that?”

“A secret kiss technique. You were saying, please?”

Kris was absolutely distracted by the increasing complexities of this martial art. “…Kissing involves _biting?”_

Marth clasped Kris’s shoulders and shook her. “Wait, focus, please. Just a little bit more!”

She let out a nervous laugh while she held her head. “Sorry. Always got my mind on a fight.”

His grip on her struggled to stay, but he fought on all the same. “You were saying something just there. Can you go back to that mindset? Please… Do you have anything else to say?”

Just as the Prince was plagued by his demons so was she. Normally Kris had a better resolve - just like how she was able to shake off the seasickness in the carriage. Yet even she was nauseated. She’s only human. Kris blankly stared forward. “I can’t remember”.

Marth shuttered which translated into shuttering her with his grip. Her shoulders he was holding onto felt as slick as a small rocky mound in the pouring rain. The air had that same twang of chilling in the poor weather. Not impossible to best and tolerate - but an annoyance nonetheless. “Kris, please! You were talking about how love was twisted.”

Kris’s pangs of conscience rang on her bell, but not even a note of key sang in her hollowed skull. Marth’s hands slipped steadily down the side of her body as she looked further and further away. Marth felt a phantom grip at the bottom half of his heart and tugged it. Like a marionette, his head cocked down and clenched his teeth. His sword hand couldn’t even squeeze Kris anymore for his resolve was spent. “I’m trying to drill a hole for you in me, but the ground won’t break.” Marth hissed through his teeth.

He felt a sense of warmth touching his face, her hand reaching out and stroking him. He grasped her wrist and turned his mouth into her palm. The pampered housecat always enjoyed getting the bridge of his nose stroked. Marth then kissed her palm. Yet after the soft kiss, he then scowled at the broken glass potion bottle that hid amongst the other empty water potion bottles and his own golden circlet that was behind Kris.

“Why can’t I reforge myself to be like glass once again? To shatter easily with one strike? When I first saved my homeland, Lady Nyna begged me to morn for I just discovered my mother’s death. Yet I went to welcome my people instead. Knowing you - you were in those roaring crowds. You know I didn’t cry, Kris. I can’t remember if I felt anything.”

Marth held both of her hands lamenting to her like a lovesick monologue in a play. Kris was used to seeing the likes of Luke pretend he was on stage, yet there was a deep-seated fear for she knew that everything Marth said was ‘real’.

“Every night that she’s gone I lay restless, awaiting dawn. The days we dance like this lull my body to bed simply through exhaustion and false fantasies of infatuation. How can I make you be my wife, bore children, and all with good fate that I’d love the offspring the same as if they were her’s? How can I rob away your knighthood and replace it with maternity without equivalent exchange? _Anyone else_ can be queen while we can still be what we were before! But if I can’t shatter myself like glass, how can I even break a twisted love for her that _is_ everlasting?”

Kris’s arms were shaking as she was fighting back tiers. “I only understood half of what you said. Do you think you can reword it?”

Marth's breath fluttered bombastically as a hummingbird with a broken wing - and soon too did his eyes join the jittery dance. Still though, he nodded in agreement. “Yes, just give me a second. Please.”

Kris’s sword arm twitched in anguish, regretting that this wasn’t just a foe she could just slash down in the name of her lord. Miserable at her own powerlessness, Kris glanced back to what he was staring at before just over her shoulder. Yet she saw not just the broken bottle that was on the table she sat on, but everything that surrounded it - his crown and all. The contrast of the gold amongst the transparent whites and dark earthy wood made her trigger a memory that just escaped her grasp. Her eyes began to sort through her mental library.

Marth spotted her dynamic shift from the corner of his eye. There was a hint of hope for him that somehow she understood him. Both his wide eyes were on her, but he was cautious not to disturb her to preserve her concentration. She smacked her lips. “…What you said there reminded me of …. I’m trying to remember a screenplay you got for me as a gift…”

Seeing her still lost, he felt safe to move. To rest his numbing legs, he went to sit next to her. “Was it before our war during our privet tutoring, or was it during the downtime in our most recent voyages?” He asked as he hoisted himself to the table with only one hand.

“Before the war. I think it was a story you told me a week or two after you knighted me. When Caeda talked me into letting her be _my guard_ just so we could read outside because you wanted too?” She scratch her cheek in thought. Kris then shook the thought out and leaned into him with a huffed and a sly smirk. “ _Our_ war though, you say? My my, your majesty. If you let that slip out in public it’d sound like you raised hell and back all because of your new girlfriend.”

Her body hugged over the table, kicking her feet out like she was just an innocent teen. She acted as if none of this was real, yet they both knew it was. She was just trying to get him to laugh again. There was something about her slyness that still made his heart thump. He looked away with a warm impish smile. Yet now aware of his own emotions, he flinched in a realization frown as she once again searched for the words to speak. He clenched his fist and balled up his wrinkled white broken shirt. _“This can still work, I just need to believe.”_

A white vail washed over Marth’s face, both in a chill of death - and a chill of realization. “ _Do you believe in love”?_ He thought, recalling Caeda’s many innocent questions she used to jab at him. He folded his arms holding a scorn. “ _I do believe in love, Caeda.”_ He replied to his own mind. _“Yet this pain that I feel - not just you, but our kingdom. Is it normal to feel this burden? How can I love another woman like this, when the entire world was on my shoulders? When you were here, you were strong enough to carry that weight too for you were born in it. Your people were few but happy under your rule. Even if I found solace in loving Kris in some kind of ‘new twisted way’… To thrust Kris into these same damming roles is still unthinkable. The throne was meant for us, not someone like her.”_

Marth heard a crack. It was a trap door opening within the classroom. A third party was walking in - who odds are overheard everything. Marth pivoted his hips and drew back his hand to strike the sound’s maker, but stopped himself when he only saw Kris sitting next to him cracking her knuckles in thought. She heard him shift, so she turned to Marth. She sawed him startled like a cat that was hiding on top of the highest pantry shelf.

“Are you…?” She was about to ask, but then looked down at her hands. She sheepishly covered them. “Did I startle you? I-I’m sorry!”

The authoritative prince persona took over as he calmed his subject. He rejected her apology with monotone head shakes and waves of passive disapproval. He then reached back to the offering of water she gave him before, sighed, and attempted to change the subject. “You were recalling something about your sporadic studies of literature?”

He hunched over on his spot, passively letting his legs sway as he sipped on his water from his glass bottle. His neutrality was a bit much for her to swallow. Her body swayed back as if physically repelled by his words. “Hey, don’t call them ‘random’. I like to read. I just haven’t found a lot of time in-between training lately. I read a lot during the marching we did. Get off my back. Naga please.” She huffed in mild anguish as she scratched her unbounded hair. She then went to steady herself and twirled her chunky antenna-like bangs. “What you said - ahg - what was it? It reminded me of one of those damn plays. Hold on, it’s coming to me…”

Monkey Marth was slumped over Marth’s control panel. Board monkey smashed big button so Monkey Marth turn on microphone. Monkey Marth talk into microphone that connected the Marth ear to Marth brain; _“We could’ve been making out with her, yet we’re talking about stuffy books. This is worse than shoveling out the horse stables. She’s not even sitting in our lap like before - that’s the worst part!”_ It was an impulsive thought, but Marth didn’t have the energy to fact-check it. The thought snuck through the cracks and influenced his subtle bodily cues - dulling his mind too. The only thing that caught his attention was her snapping her fingers mid-sip.

“Act three, Scene one. Nyna’s home - ehm - The Timeless Palace, I mean.” She thought out loud as she then tapped the invisible incomplete book in front of her. “Are at this hour asleep. Oho, gentle sheep - Nature’s …finest crown?” Kris then flinched when she heard a heavy, drawn-out, unexpected, unanticipated, exacerbated, elongated ejection of dead wind that escaped the set of organs that this vernacular authenticity of published work would dub as ‘his lungs’. Marth sulked after his sigh. Kris gulped.

The Prince then stretched out his back and rolled his stiff neck till he made his own bones crack. Not making eye contact with her, he was looking at her scraps of notes and then attempted to help their student mend their recollection of memory. The bit of annoyance he felt washed away as he saw Kris lean in when she was hearing him recall the passage by memory. She had a steady growing smile, as cute as a button.

“Are at this hour asleep. O’ sleep, O’ gentle sleep. Nature's soft nurse, how have I frightened thee. That thou no more will weigh my eyelids down. And steep my senses in forgetfulness?”

The body heat wasn’t the only warmth he felt when she was leaning closer. They both forgot they were in a dark classroom and were basking in a mild shade. He faced her to continue reciting the passage. For just a moment, for the both of them, they were pretending that the war never happened and Caeda was just relaxing out of sight today - perhaps she was only around the river’s bend.

They used to study outdoors when the weather was fair - with Prince Marth’s fiancée not even a stone-throws away. Caeda, the coming queen of Altea, would take her prized pegasus out to pace, as common as the cavaliers do with their wingless steeds. As the princess let her four-legged companions graze upon Altea’s thick lushes grass, she’d keep her sights on her husband and his new royal guard sitting under a tree not too far from her. Kris held the book so the page didn’t fly away. As Marth helped Kris get better at reading, he’d recite much of what he learned and the blowing winds carried his words to Caeda. Unknowingly to Marth, retelling the very passage to Kris in Merric’s class symbolically serenades Caeda’s soul with her favorite simple memory once again. Her spirit was soothed by Marth’s voice - recalling the time she fell in love with the both of them.

“Why rather, sleep, liest thou in smoky cribs. Upon uneasy pallets stretching thee. And hush'd with buzzing night-flies to thy slumber. Under the canopies of costly state. And lull'd with sound of sweetest melody? O’ thou dull Nag', why liest thou with the vile? In loathsome beds, and leav'st the kingly couch. Wilt thou upon the high and giddy mast. Seal up the ship-boy's eyes, and rock his brains. In cradle of the rude imperious surge. Canst thou, O’ partial sleep, give thy repose. To the wet sea-boy in an hour so rude; and in the calmest and most stillest night. With all appliances and means to boot, Deny it to a king? Then, happy low, lie down.

Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown.”

The dancer dress-wearing Kris snapped her fingers that echoed in the wooden - empty - lifeless - classroom. “I’m shocked you remember it”.

The trip down memory lain soothed Marth’s mood. Bashfully he scratched the back of his tiara-less head with the arm that had its white sleeve torn off. “I think I skipped a few lines, frankly. But the rhythmic nature of that author's work helped me remember some of it. Was that enough to jog your memory, Kris?”

“Yeah! And I know exactly how you feel because of that! You got a heavy crown!” She shouted with a smile. Marth’s heart stopped as she watched Kris reached for his crown while pushing away the other bottles around it. She held it in front of them. “You’re feeling really bummed out about not only me, or us, but like, the stuff you’re going to throw at me if I take Caeda’s place, right?”

Marth continued to stare at Kris as she rambled on.

“You can’t sleep at night not _just_ because Caeda’s gone but because of all the stress you have to deal with while ruling. Like, Marth, this circlet I’m holding was strong enough to break that glass bottle. Your crown _is_ heavy - figuratively and literally! No wonder why you take it off!”

Marth continued to stare at Kris as she rambled on.

“I know you’ve been dancing to shake the stress off, too. I’ve been forced to skip my normal morning workout routines because of how hard we’ve been pushing one another in the evening. The first week we started this was worse than the time my grandfather punished me by making me his ox to plow the fields. Not even _the war_ pushed me that hard!”

Marth continued to stare at Kris as she rambled on.

“Also you said something about kids and knightlyhood? Equal payment? Something like that? Wouldn’t all our kids be equals? Heck, they all can be equal! You don’t _have_ to keep pumping kids out of me until you get a boy to take the throne. You can change the laws, Marth. You’re the king of everything now - and that’s not even hyperbole!”

Marth heard Caeda’s ghost hollering in laughter at him as Kris rambled on.

“N-not that I mind having k-kids. I’m comfortable with that idea. I always wanted some actually. I just want to make that clear: It’s not a shame to my code! And like, any that don’t become king after you? I can just train them to be knights like me too! It’s a win-win!”

Marth’s Monkey be do backflips as Kris rambled on.

“Lastly you said something about, twisted? Love? That was made out of glass? And how anyone could be Queen? I can’t believe I have to teach this to you, Marth. ‘A true knight perseveres to the end in any enterprise begun’. That’s what my grandfather taught me. That’s what _Jagen and Cain_ taught me when I _first_ came here to become a knight. That’s one of the core principles of the Code of Chivalry! I knew what I was getting into, and our travels before coming home really helped me I think. You told me not to fear my greatest assets when it came to diplomacy. I might be simple, but I get stuff!”

Kris hagged a loogie at the floor to relieve some aggravation. Kris then underhand tossed the crown to the side. She looked up at Marth who was blankly staring at her. She swiped the glass bottle from his hand before he dropped and shattered it, and clasped his hands.

“So can you stop. Worrying. _Please?”_

Marth’s burning red face still stared at her. Kris shook his hands again.

“Can we get back to practice, please? _Anything?_ ”

Marth mentally was locking some precious few impulses away from accidentally being triggered, pocketed those metaphorical keys into his black dress pants so that they were safely under his conscious control, walked away from his control panel, reclined back for a front-row seat, and finally high-fived his mental monkey. Monkey Marth then flung whole body to control panel. _Pushed_ _all the buttons_ _Monkey Marth could._

Marth slid his hands from Kris’s grasp, clasped on her shoulders, pulled her to him, kissed. Kris clung on his tattered white shirt. Eyes bugged out of her face. She pulled back, gasped. She went to speak. Kissed. She pulled him closer. He rejected - he pulled back. He listened to her, waited. He went too fast - he forgot he needed approval. They stood still. Shaking. Anticipation. She said nothing. She looked scared - but tugged him slightly closer. Kissed. She was hardly blinking. Kissed. He put his whole body weight on her. Kissed. He clasped the back of her head. Both fell on top of one another on the hardwood table.

The last time Kris was in this position, she was on the ground of an arena floor being strangled by her opponent as the crowds cheered. She had to fight back the impulse to kick Marth off of her. The way he wasn’t strangling her at the neck did help. The way he was holding her protectively did help. The tingling she felt in the lips helped. But what helped the most was how he was petting her. This poor little orphan alleyway cat never got much affection, yet tonight, her pampered mate was showering her with it.

Marth was hunched over Kris while she laid on top of the table. She had her legs tucked in which she gradually shifted to allow Marth to rest nicely along her body. His hands brushed and stroked the sides of her head while also combing her long hair. While they kissed, he picked up the fact she was moaning mostly because of the petting which made him smile. With much restraint gone, he used more complex techniques on her while she only knew the basic swings. She found it difficult to keep up, too even contribute, yet the pain of her inexperience just made the moment more tender. Marth was a giver in nature.

Even though he’s fought in two wars, and his body was a weapon - he was malleable for the one’s he loved. When Kris grabbed the back of his head to rip him off her face, he allowed her and caress the closest part of her body; mostly her neck. While she was coughing trying to catch her breath, she was constantly getting interrupted with Marth making love to her neck. It was from her constant fidgeting when he targeted her neck was when he got a good candidate for her weakest spot. Marth kept that in mind for later. He counted the seconds she needed to breathe - so that when she allowed him to go back he can better pace their micro-breaks when they kissed. He only went for the french kiss when he was making her gasp with her moans. His comforting nails combed the back of her neck, and scratched behind her ear. No matter what style Kris came to trying to retort to him Marth instinctually knew how to approach her at her most weakest points. It was Marths persistence and skill that was always the dividing factor between the both of them. He was near always the victor in their sword spars and now that same standard seemed to apply in bed.

The tingling Kris felt that used to only be on her lips was starting to bleed out all over her face. Like a venom it was seeping deeper into her skin, it started to infect her mind. The overwhelming vibration soon started to enter her hands to her toes. She started to tap her feet on the table and bang her fists. Her moans - the ones she could make - where loud and high pitch. His experience with Caeda prepared him for this tell. Using the knowledge he already downloaded on Kris, he pulled back his dangling tongue from her gasping drool-filled mouth and went for another love bite on her neck. Marth then felt like he knocked on the door of nirvana when he heard her blissful shrill.

He pulled back his head just to listen to her gasping with a blush smile stretching across his beaming face. Kris was jittering as her nails struggled to grasp anything on the table she was laying on while at the peek of bliss. She used what strength she had left to shift over and lay on her side, which Marth ever so happily joined her. They were laying side by side with Marth snuggling up right up to her. He hugged her close, and Kris aimed herself to go right into the cleavage of his torn shirt. Through the rollercoaster of the early evening, this has been for him - his body was now starting to wish all this didn’t happen on such cold, indifferent, creaking surfaces. His body was tired. His gut was empty. His mind was in a frizzle of emotions. Yet all that pain was numbed. He got to live on knowing he was holding _a_ love of his life in his arms and that brought him true happiness. But said love then suddenly licked his chest - so that was a little bit weird. He pinched on her hair and twisted his wrist to make her chin rise up. He then looked down at his Kris.

“Don’t do that.” He softly scolded.

“Why not?” She asked innocently - her eyes were somewhat lazy, Her expression was very much drunk and she was out of breath.”You made me feel all fuzzy, n-….Now it’….it be me turn me Mars for the…Mars fuzz. Hehe!…The _‘thhhhh’_ in your names hard right now.”

He sighed as he gave her a half eyed full smile. “Anything you do to me, I’m allowed to do to you. That’s just **_one_** of the restrictions I gave myself….So…. don’t do that, please?”

“Was it bad?” She asked unable to make eye contact - not because she was embarrassed; but because her climax screwed with her wiring. Her love for him was the only thing that pushed her broken-down body to even hold this conversation.

“No, I just don’t think you’d…” Monkey Marth made Marth soft backpedal - not know what new mate will do and Monkey was _deathly intrigued_. He blankly stared, then attempted again. “No, It wasn’t bad. I was just shocked, that’s all.”

He cautiously let go of her hair and went to pet her again, hoping that appeasing this beast with simple pats would soothe her soul. She seemed to stay still, with her nose resting in the cleavage of his pecks. No movement whatsoever. He sighed, finally able to relax. He rested his arm over her to keep her head warm. Finally, he went to rest his weary head on his cold wooden bed.

The silence truly was bliss for both of them. Shame though, that peace can never last. One hungered for chaos. Kris shoved her head into his shirt and chewed on the meat and nipple of her favorite pillow.

“ ** _YOW!!_** ” Marth screamed while he was ambushed. His body contorting reflexively when his peck was chomped. Kris hanged onto the bumpy ride with a grip she’d reserve for only a mallet as she clung onto his ass. She was crackling like a witch while Marth was wiggling on his side. Next he looked down, she was giggling like a schoolgirl as she rubbed her face all over his chest. He let out a sigh as he was making very clear mental notes of each areas she was touching him. Marth does not typically dish out petty vengeance, but he could make an exception just this once.

“ _This is going to be a very long night.”_ He thought to himself.


	11. Murdering the Mood

The song of the nightingale was joined with the tweeting of the lark. Although still dark, the sun will eventually rise. The hallways of Altea’s finest castle were aglow of the saturated blue light of the moon. The colors were cool and empty, but its warmth couldn’t be further from winter’s grip. The first sound that broke the surface tension of the hallway’s serenity was the creaking of the classroom door opening - with a timid prince peeking out to see if the coast was clear.

Seeing no one walked sleeping halls the Royal Guard who was seeing through the cracks too attempted to walk past the prince. Marth placed the full front of his palm on her belly and shoved her back into the class. He kept her there and listened to the sounds of the blue halls just beyond. He heard no more foot traffic. Not a soul walked these halls - at least on this side of their world.

Dressed both in their royal attire with broken glass and other trash bounded in their tattered dancer clothing, they each carried equal share. Marth the ever gentlemen held the door for her. Kris impulsively went to do so for him, but seeing his kindness yet again melted her heart. She pulled back her hand from the door and rested it on her blushing cheek. Torn clothing and all underneath her other, she walked ahead of him. Marth watched as she headed into the glow of the moon-lit spotlight from the windows and turned back for him. “ _She’s as cute as a button”_. He dreamed as he left the classroom behind him.

The two stood in the hallway and simply staring at one another. Marth was shrouded in the shadows of the halls, while Kris was bathed in the moonlight. Kris adorned her Royal Guard uniform of the orange tunic and tan shorts while Marth was in his royal blue tunic. The shade for the prince hid much of his imperfections. His crown was not on straight and his blue-robed attire was wrinkled as if just thrown on. His hair misaligned, his pants crooked, he was disheveled but at least presentable. The only nicks of damages visible to the naked eye were marks that were around his check. The collar of his tunic was good at hiding that. His Royal Guard however was worse for wears where much of her skin was as blushing red as her face.Slaps, nicks, red spots, accidental self-inflicted bumps - she wore them all with a very pleasing smile. This however was a slightly more expectable look for her. Near all would dismiss her as just being in a spar, and look the other way, even her own platoon.

They both meticulously looked each other down to analyze each of their imperfections. Yet rather than see them as wrong, they took each battle mark they left upon them as a point of pride. Both of them were staggered of breath from their intense practice drills. Their body’s groaned. Yet neither of them found it within their power to move. Their hearts pounded when they attempted to sway apart - their whole bodies disapproved.

Attempting to find a compromise, Kris beckoned Marth to head to the direction of their tower. The two of them tiptoed along at a glacier pace. Marth attempted to bar her from walking outside of the passing window’s glow. He adored seeing his cute little button shined in a spotlight at long last - it was the attention she rightfully deserved.

A single drop of sadness was all that was needed to spoil their unshakable focus. Kris looked forward and sighed while they traveled to the base of Marth’s tower. “A shame I have to leave you still cold and alone in your bed. Not for as your knight, but just to give you warmth like when we were just friends”. She folded her arms and then shut her eyes, scowling in thought. “To think that this brought us together, and not us huddling for warmth at the dead of night when we scaled the mountain ranges along Anri’s Way.”

“That situation always had the threat of death looming over our heads. Perhaps our trust in one another kept us from seeing more.” He whispered his tender loving response.

Kris’s eyes harden like she was in battle. She knew why nothing bloomed between them before. While Kris looked ready to kill someone because of the terrible thought in her head, it was able to be melted down by Marth’s warming smile. “Is something on your mind, Kris?”

She sighed as death’s sick grasp was poking at her back again. “It was Caeda that stopped us from seeing us as more. We both couldn’t move on. Do you think you have now though, Sire?”

His gut turned and twisted hearing such a cold indifferent title be whispered out of her lips. _“Naga, I long the day where she no longer calls me Sire and only refers to me as her lover.”_

He collected his thoughts and shook his head no. “I never will. There’s so much I owe to her. One of the greatest gifts she gave me was the power to move on-“. Kris cocked an eyebrow at the contradiction while he stopped all progress of his walking and turned to face her. “-and see you as my lover.” His tone was as soft as a butterfly’s wingbeat.

Her wide moon eyes matched the full moon that shined just behind her.The empty bottles she was cradling clicked and clanged as she hugged them close to her body. What kept them spilling on the floor was her dancer’s garbs that tied them together. His moth of the night was overwhelmed by the nightlight Marth just gifted her.

Her arms began to tremble as she puttered out a request. “May we… do… more practice drills… but… in ….your….room…starting…tomorrow?” Kris raised the chattering glass bottles up over her eyes. It was to warp the image of Marth through their decorative shapes. She had so very little courage to look him right at his face. “I think…we…practice the….main…set… enough…for the…masquerade …. ball …I…I need more…. training drills with…your….la..lala…..li…li….lif…liifff….ff…f.f.. _f.f.f.f.f.f.f.f.f.f.face_ ………pf…ppff… _p.p.p.p.p.please_?”

Miraculously, Marth wasn’t breaking at the seams seeing his cute button be the most bashful she’s ever been with him. Perhaps it was his natural calling to guide the weak that kept him calm, or the humbling honor he was feeling getting to see every side of her. It was hard to tell. “We can do as much as we did tonight, so long as we keep the noise down.” He whispered to her with his ever-calm smile.

Kris bashfully turned her head away as both arms were juggling the articles of clothing and bottles in her hands. She sighed in bliss, her love, for now, was appeased with the devilish thoughts of anticipation. “I should leave, otherwise my mind will break. I’m not prepared for that outcome, and a true knight must be prepared for everything”. She was able to scrape together some confidence as she bowed to Marth and started to walk off.

The weight of gravity made Marth’s smile turn into a frown. He pivoted to watch her limp away. A twang in his chest started to stab him as he watches Kris leave her moonlight spotlight. Impulsively one of his ears was listening to the clanking of the bottles she held, the other to the lifeless hallway cautiously listening for a heartbeat. Marth was not aware consciously of the growing discomfort that was happening to his body. One fault in his system he could always spot was shaking on his right side. His sword hand started to tremble.

His right hand went weak and dropped his tattered dancer garbs on the floor. The limpness of his fist to him was a new feeling so he looked down at his hand as if it was a foreign creature. He cradled his arm and took a shaken gasp. He kept staring at his right hand baffled why it wasn’t clasped. His mind raced through his own think tank to try to think of why.

 _“My hand normally clenches when I think of past regrets - yet why am I shaking now? I can’t move my fingers.”_ Breathless, his anxiety thought he was perhaps poisoned, or bewitched from a hex. A sliver of him thought that his next few draws of air were his last. The thought that his own hand would shake but not clench stilled that much unrest into the poor man. Marth looked up and around the world to see if his deduction was true - yet he need not need to look far at all for the culprit was in front of him.

His shaking grew less severe as he watched Kris slowly being claimed by the night that ruled his castle. An unsteady equilibrium balanced in Marth’s ki was achieved at this realization. His limp hand twitched like a possum’s eyelid - for there was still the fear that Marth would not act. If he was a weaker man, this would be true. The first love of his life prepared him for such a trial.

“ _You have to_ _dance with confidence. Caeda would want you to dance with confidence. Caeda_ ** _always_** _danced with confidence. We can do this alone. We can’t let down Caeda. Caeda never hesitated. We_ ** _need_** _to be more like her.”_ He repeated to himself. He sucked in his gut and released the pressure through his dry chapped nostrils.

“ **Dame Kris** ”. Marth spoke with his kingly boom.

In the still blue moon-lit chambers his tone lingered in the dead air. Like a javelin impaling the ground, Kris stopped walking and slightly wiggled after once his words made an impact.

“ **Come ba** ck here if you - ma _y so, please?_ ” He gave an order that had a decaying power to it. Hearing her lord’s gentle nature shine through his false bravado made her shook. She blissfully rested the fingertips against her heart. She then took a second to collect herself, dawn back her neutral-faced mask, and march back to Marth.

“Is there something that you need, Sire?” She entered his personal zone and looked at his face - which too - was dawning his own stone mask. There was a crack in his marble exterior when he smiled at her.

“You look like you’re going to drop that if I leave you be.” He reached out and took the bottles and her dancer garbs for her.

“Ah… Thank you.” She gave a rehearsed retort. Yet her own granite disguise was starting to split and crumble when she watched Marth bend down and placed her luggage on the ground next to them. She then spotted he also dropped his dancer clothing as well on the floor beside him.

 _“Wait, how’d I miss he dropped his things? Is my Marth well?”_ She cautiously thought to herself. His lumbering figure loomed over her and only offered her a slice of the bottom of his eye to read. This was an angle only his foes ever got to see him from when they died by his hand - or when Kris lost in a spar and she had his training blade pointed at her neck.

The familiarity of this _‘oh so tender and caring’_ stand-off made a slight discomfort grow in her chest. Kris though held firm and stayed waiting as she looked up at him. Marth’s sharp hearing was picking up foot traffic that Kris did not hear. He heard them shifting rooms, and stayed dormant until the servant walked across that far-off hallway. As they waited, their rock-solid shells were crumbling by the simple rising and falling action of their breathing.

"How much do you trust me, dear?" Marth whispered not making any eye contact with her. His eyes were on the direction he was hearing the sounds of the far-off servant. 

The new title Marth just gave her made Kris flinch in a blush. She curled up as she tugged on her tunic. She felt so exposed without her breastplate on her. She was struggling to breathe normally as she felt the pressure of his implied words rising.

"I..." Kris stuttered on her breath. "W-.....With.... With m-my..." Kris tugged down on her shorts as she lowered her head to the ground. She couldn't keep looking at his face. "With my life." She whispered to Marth.

She's responded to that question before with the same response, but her fidgeting told Marth she understood the new context he framed that question in. A very small smug smirk shot across his face as he waited for the servant to walk back to their chambers. Once Marth heard the unmistakable click of the door lock - he came at Kris like a wrecking ball.

He picked her up right from underneath her armpits and forcibly went for a deep kiss. Kris able to acknowledge the inherent danger and her body kicked into fight or flight mode before his luscious venom took over her mind once again. Dame Kris tried to break free in the name of protecting Prince Marth’s sacred and pure reputation. She brought back her mighty legs to punt him away, but Marth had a check already prepared. He pushed her against the wall-high windows. The cold glass pressing up against her battered sweating skin made her gasp, which gave him the opportunity to penetrate her deeper.

Her body made a soft thud sound when he pressed her back against the shameless transparent wall. She knew all the routes of the guards that patrolled the castle, and the window she was pressed up against was right above one of them. She could break the glass. She could kick him away. She could fight, yet, There was a shameful wall in her body that prevented her from committing - no matter how terrified she felt in the moment. In her hesitation, she felt his love clouding her judgment as she stopped shaking. No matter if it was here being taken advantage of in these empty blue halls, or out in the sun intense sparring match with him giving it her all - she always found it difficult to have it in her to genuinely hurt her best friend.

She could still do it though. She’s done so before. And she wasn’t going to stop doing what was right even if now he was her lover. Kris’s role was being his spotter, his Royal Guard. She could have fought off his love and pushed him away. Yet what made her cave to his might was not the passion. Not how he was now cradling her backside and encouraged her to clamp down on his sides with her thighs. It wasn’t because he was rubbing along her sensitive neck. Nor how their tongues twirled like how he spun her in their dance sets every night before. It was because of his patience.

Kris understood now why he just stared at her before starting this. But it wasn’t just for a selfish opportunity. He could have taken her there and stopped when danger was near if it was only selfishness. Her mind went back to the two little bows that adorned her hips back in the classroom. It was that constant and ever-loving patience he gave her that made Kris surrender to his sudden flair of selfishness. She wrapped her legs around his body and could free Marth’s hand to explore how well she could have supported herself. Kris reached down to his hand that was stroking her neck and seized it. She tried desperately to get Marth to grope her by shoving his hand into her orange tunic. Yet even when pressed against the fat of her breast he pulled back. He yearned only for interlocking their fingers in a tight grasp.

There was a certain thrill of the risk of being caught, tempting and devilish as Elice’s joy of being seen. Yet unlike his sister’s crude ape-like thrashing, Marth’s choice of pallet needed a meticulous approach to please his clever little chimp. Kris didn’t realize it in this session, or several future ones, but there was a reason she never saw Marth and Caeda kiss often even though she was a very diligent Royal Guard. He used her this time until he was sufficiently pleased.

The only conservative action he did was migrate from the window to the closest pillar. Not once however did her feet touch the ground. Both of his hands held her by her ass. Not out of lust, but because she lost the strength in her legs. Both their noses kissed one another. Marth was shaken as if he fought off an entire battalion while Kris looked as peaceful as a sleeping babe’.

“Did I…work you up…too much….Marth? I’m…sorry…if I did…” Kris whispered to Marth as he was catching his breath. She kept her lips as closed as much as she could just to swirl around the tase of him in her mouth still. Marth shook his head as he pushed himself to rest on top of her. He couldn’t drop her, so pressing their chest together was the closest thing he could do to hugging her close.

Marth whispered into her ear. “If I was just a man - a blacksmith - a knight - a warrior - a nave- a simple man - and only that role in my life; I’d claim you now.” She stuttered in her breath as her knees rattled with new life. To encourage her to think positively he kissed her neck. She hummed in bliss.

He forced himself to keep spilling his mind. “If I was only a man, I’d take you now…… Yet as the coming king, I need to wait. I need you to wait on only that till the time is so. Forgive me for this sliver of chastity.”

He heard Kris moan a sound into his ear so he stopped himself. He waited for her to whisper back. “…So you’re saying; ‘no bone ’til we’re good to go’?”

Marth squinted at the stone pillar he was resting Kris on as if it was the Rosetta Stone to what the fuck just came out of her mouth.

She continued; “‘Cause yeah, I’m fine with that. All I want is the official ‘I-L-Y’ done at the Ball. You can do whatever you want to me afterwords. We’ve been training for that day for so long so I want that day to be special for me. My knighting ceremony was kinda busted by Katarina when she tried to kill you. I want at least one proper ‘harra’ day in my life. You following me?”

She was casually swinging her legs while being held. Marth was stiff. She looked down at the back of Marth’s head. “How are you this good at murdering the mood”? He asked the stone wall.

“I’m good at killing, so I guess moods aren’t off the table?” She swiftly retorted.

He nearly dropped her as he buried his wheezing laugh into her body. Kris was grinning ear to ear as she hugged him, just in case he did let go. He steadied himself, huffing, but still found the strength to stand. He pulled back, smiling at her. He kissed her again with the same force he was before. Poor Kris’s legs kicked out fearing they'd go at for the same amount of time. For the sake of her sanity, he forced himself to pull back. He rubbed his head lovingly against hers and she returned the same gesture like two loving cats from completely different worlds.

“I never thought I could be happy like this after she left me.” Marth’s tone was as gentle as light rain. “I thought I’d force myself to continue on. Yet you gave me a chance as your boyfriend. Thank you. I finally know how Caeda felt when she flew on her pegasus. You make me feel weightless.”

Kris was grateful they were hugging each other. She didn’t want to murder his mood yet again at how she reacted to what he said. She coiled up at how cringe-worthy he sounded to her with how he said ‘boyfriend’ there. Still, she swallowed the difference and hugged him back. “Don’t stress it. The grass is greener on the other side, Marth.”

Marth turned his ear to her moth-like whispers. “All my life I just wanted stability. ‘Flying high’ is nice, but its hard when you have no place to land”. An instinctual urge sparked in her as she gripped him tighter. “I worked so hard to become a knight, so that one day I can start a family. I…That’s how it feels like now, being able to look back at the road that got me here. Thank you for preserving it. It’s what Caeda and you fought for - it was for someone ...like me...”

She drew a shaken breath. The thought of Caeda’s sacrifice and her own happiness today because of it pushed her to silently weep tears for the fallen pegasus knight. There was an immortal part of her that felt guilty of taking Marth away from the princess. Marth knew too well that pattern of breathing as he stroked her back. “I’m okay…” Kris reassured him.

He wanted nothing more than to stay with her, but his ears picked up another soul he knew would pace at this hour before their day began. Cursing the passing of time, he used what he had left to its fullest. He pulled back his head to trap her into a kiss once again.

It was rough. Hot. Paralyzing.

He had gravity do the work as he slowly slid her down to the floor. He made sure there was plenty of ‘him’ in her to keep her distracted. He position herself so she’d be sitting and curled up behind the pillar and rested his finger on her lips. Her eyes were wide understanding his intent. Marth then gave her a nod with a smile and galloped backwards to quickly grab all the belongings that were on the floor, then sprinted back to her for one peck on the lips.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Button.” Marth whispered.

“Button?” Kris mouthed at him.

“You’re cute as a button.” He volleyed back to her which made her breathless. Shooting her a grin, he then hid all that he could underneath the side of his body and walked out to the open. It was then Kris heard another pair of footsteps that came in range - one that walked as lightly as the grass sways.

“Morning, Merric.” Marth said with a spring in his step.

The sleepy professor yawned with his tome in one hand, and tea in the other.Merric nodded to Marth - but then the mage took a double-take at Marth. “Go to bed.” Merric barked.

Marth chuckled as he was about to disappear into the hallway, but his conscience made him come back and jogged right over to the landowner of the classroom they demolished. “Oh so, uh, there was another accident? Nothing serious. Things got rowdy during practice again.”

“How bad are we talking here?” Merric pivoted while sipping his tea. He looked down as Marth sheepishly handed Merric the broken glass potion bottle. “Oh, that’s nothing.” Merric responded to. The mage placed the bottle into one of his oversized pockets.

Marth continued with a nervous stutter. “O-Oh, also a table or five of them have new chips into them. One of them has a corner chopped off. All my fault, sorry”. Marth flashed him the palm that had the blister starting to take shape. After showing Merric the evidence, Marth started to walk away to his tower.

Merric attempted to follow after that info just smacked him wide awake.“What do you mean _five_ tables have chips in them? They could take a Thoron at point-blank - What are you two doing in there? I thought you were just practicing how to dance in peace!”

“We do practice drills sometimes, too.” Marth dismissed while still walking away.

Merric stopped trying to reel in the big catch and just stuttered in place. He finally responded by huffing a smile. “You have the courtyard for that, Marth. Stop breaking things in my class.”

Merric rolled his eyes hearing the hushed ‘sorry’ echo down Marth’s hall. Merric only had to do a brisk walk from where they met to get to the classroom door. He absentmindedly went right for the door handle while forgetting to grab the key. The Wind Mage paused when he turned the handle and it was already open.

 _“Marth always doubles back to check if he locked a door. So did he just leave at this hour andjust forgot this time?”_ The inquisitive Merric pondered. Merric opened the door slowly and peered in. Outside of the chips in some of the wood tables, everything was spick and span. However: his keen eye noted that some of the lower shelf dictionaries were misaligned and he spotted that from just the doorway. _“Did Kris throw him around again? If so, why just the bottom bookshelves?”_ He thought as he was eyeballing the height of where the disorganization happened. _“E…F…G…H…Z,K- okay one of them either slid across the floor or they were sitting along that wall for some reason.”_

Merric concluded his thought, but then a new wild hypothesis hit him right as the creaking door was closing. He stopped the heavy door from completely shutting with his back heel, flicked open his wind tome, and used its magic to listen to the whispers of the wind to test his hypothesis. The only movement he made while leering at the door was to sip his hot tea.

Merric got through half his cup before his impulsive test gave him some results. He heard Kris shifting from behind the pillar to finally stand up. Their breathing pattern sounded like they were in pain, starving, and parched. With heavy steps, they trailed where Marth went.There was an ounce of worry, but he trusted that Marth could handle themselves. Merric let the door closed, and let his judgmental eyes peer around the classroom once more. He went to put his tome and tea on the front desk, but something in the back of his head told him to stop that at once. He then looked around the classroom for ‘the least sexiest spot’ to place his belongings so he settled upon a dusty corner. Once his objects were safe he rolled up he sleeves. “Right, well. I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to clean every surface in this room before I start work, just to be safe”. He said to himself with a smile.

\- - - - -

Marth was mid-dress for bed - silk sleeping pants but stopped before he could put on a shirt. He was inflicted with a horrific Night Terror. He sat at his simple pail vanity with his fingers folded into a tent. He blankly was staring at his broken reflection as he was breaking into a cold sweat.

“ _Did I lock the classroom door?”_ He thought to himself. _“I cleaned up all the gunk that was on the floor and countertops. So. I did do that yes. But I don’t think I locked the door. Okay. We can keep this yarn ball together. I can just say I was looking for Merric if he asks anything.”_ He continued to repress his panic, but then another doubt started to seep into his head.

 _“…Kris organized the books. I don’t know if she knew what I meant when I said ‘alphabetical order’. I want to think that she did. But I’m not sure. She can’t be that- Let’s not call her that word, even behind her back.”_ He took a deep breath to calm himself. _“Well even then, those are small tells. Everything’s still okay. We’re not caught.”_

There was then an eerie scratching on the door. Two solid swipes. The first sounded like a knocking, the second one nailed weakly scratching at the wood. He stayed dead silent looking at the door. “ _What in Naga’s name?…No, that couldn’t have been real.”_ He thought to himself. The thing that was very much behind the door scratched at it again. Marth stood up from his chair and spoke with unflinching resolve.

“Who are you?” His sword hand was already reaching to one of the weapons along the walls. He stopped mid-reach when he heard a familiar whimpering.

“I-It’s m-me…Kris.” The figure named Kris said meekly behind the door.

Marth was at an impasse between lowering his guard completely or keeping it up. There was no middle ground between this. He was cycling through many situations in his head, yet hardly a few had her disobeying him and fewer still that she’d approach him this timidly. And she was in no risk of death. This had to be an imposture. Marth reached for his rapier, one that can stab through doors if need be.

“ **Tell me your real name!** ” he boomed.

The figure behind the door let out a whimper, shivered, sniffled, then spoked in the same terrified way Kris did back when she asked for a training session tomorrow afternoon; “B-Button!…. M-My name is…. is Button!! My new name is Button!!!”

The expression of Marth’s hollowed husk along with the emotion that sane Marth shriveling upside said husk had was indescribable - but 'least Monkey Marth _really like_ new Button name. Marth put away his rapier so he didn’t scare the poor woman and then flung open the door. “Kris, I’m sorry! I didn’t-!” He cut himself off as he was looking at Kris compromising herself.

Kris had her tunic pulled open and was flashing him. Her tunic was held wide as Marth took to opening up his door. Staring him right in the face was her chest and toned abbs. The white dancer bra she still had on did very little in leaving much to mystery. The white cloth of the bra sagged still because of Marth's harassment of it when they first kissed. The still damped fabric clung onto the curve of her breasts. It looked as if it was going to fall off. Her eyes were clenched tight and was looking away from the Prince. The alleyway cat wanted to finally come inside and be owned.

Marth slammed the door closed on the stray.

“Wait! I-I didn’t-! P-Please open the door!” Kris was begging him as Marth stared blankly at the white paint.

His little Button pawed at his door again. "Let me sleep with you, please! I don’t want to be alone tonight! Please let me in! I-I’m sorry! I didn’t think you’d let me in if I just asked! Please M-Marth, I-I’m…!”

She only got here because of her desperation and hunger. Now suddenly all at once, her monkey brain did do very _VERY_ bad thing and rational Kris started to break down and cry right outside of Marth’s room. “I’m a sham of a knight and a terrible woman! I’m the hog of all concubines”. She was about to run away but that’s when Marth smashed open his door.

He picked her up and threw her over his shoulder. He dragged her inside, grabbed his key, and locked both his door and entryway to his balcony. He closed the blinds with a swipe and threw the key back on his vanity. After throwing the key, he then spiked Kris onto the bed. Making her lay on her back, Marth then rolled her up in all his blankets and laid down with his back facing his cozy sausage roll Kris.

“Goodnight, Kris”. Marth said.

They both laid there in silence for a good while.

Eventually, the curious chimp Kris flipped over and wiggled closer to Marth and then rested her forehead on his heated back. She sighed in bliss. - which Marth echoed with a sigh of anguish and defeat. “I’ll flip over but you must not bite me”.

She timidly responded back “O-Oh I just…Wanted your body heat. Forgive me, Master.”

Marth looked over his shoulder and looked at the figure that was Kris the Sausage. “Master?” He questioned.

Kris wiggled in a wave pattern as she bashfully looked at the bedding. “W-Well, you gave me a nickname so the girlfriend gets to pick one now. I thought of one as soon as you ran away from me and called me your Button. I want to call you my Master because you know I’d do anything for you. ‘Master’ was also something I can call you instead of ‘Sire’ in front of everyone and no one would raise any eyebrows. Outside the lord connotations too, you are also my Master, as in, my teacher. Gordin called Jeorge that all the time. I’m your apprentice when it comes to dance and face exercises so we have backup alibis too!”

Marth was fascinated by her stupid logic and rolled over to face her. “Kris, you’re a genius!!!!!”

“Thank you, Master Marth!!” Kris the little burrito said as she bounced in his bed. The Master idiot then hugged his bundled-up button of joy.

“Goodnight, Button ♡”

“Goodnight, Master ♡”

And the most magical thing about this moment was that Kris’s plan actually worked flawlessly.


	12. Butterflies and Flowers

Much of the pressure between the two lovers dissipated from that night moving forward. They took a break from their dances and dedicated their efforts to ruling their kingdom. In the evenings, Marth would privately tutor Kris the ins and outs of royalty on Kris’s request. Many nights was simply Kris sitting at Marth’s desk at lamp light while Prince Marth was supposed to sleep. Marth however stayed up to watch Kris studying as diligently as she would take her training. The glow from the yellow light kissed every part of her face. The Prince would stare at her for hours as her white noise would be the lone thing that lulled himself to sleep. His dream seemingly continue during daybreak where he’d find her sleeping in his arms. Any little affections of love between them risked sparking full-on practice drills - which happened often.

Outwardly, however, he needed to repress himself for his people, her as well. Kris the Royal Guard remained as stoic as ever with her duties as co-head of the knights, but many noted Prince Marth’s more calming nature when he went about their role. Though few of the maids whispered rumors about interloping for how frequently Dame Kris visited ‘Master Marth’s’ private chambers - the hustle that Sir Cain put them in left them little time to chatter. The night of the Magical Masquerade was approaching.

Invitations were sent out to noble houses and suzerain kingdoms far and wide within Prince Marth’s dynasty. Additionally, the ever-loving Marth did his best to track down all his comrades from the War of Heroes and War of Shadows. Though not all could be found, or all could attend, many land their mark and at the least considered coming. Few invitations even ventured beyond his borders and made it to the newly formed empire that laid west across the sea. With even the First King Alm and Queen Celica of the One Kingdom of Valentia attending this celebration of the Princess’s unity with her lover, the safety precautions were held to extreme scrutiny.

Every maid and butler were secretly armed to the teeth by Sir Cain’s decree. All were ordered and trained to interrogate any guest who was able to identify Prince Marth or Lady Elice without suitable context or before their possible public reveal. On the first day of combat training for the servants, Sir Cain the Bull instructed them all how to use their hidden weapons. Lady Hazel, who came to the first training session with Dame Kris’s pocket knife, was promptly interrogated by Sir Cain - suspected of treason. Yet upon learning her motive of; ‘I thought that a true maid should be prepared for anything, she was then promptly promoted from trainee maid to Junior Manager of the Altean Knights on the spot. Training then resumed as normal with the addition of Hazel being kept under Sir Cain’s wing.

The said knights of Altea were given strict and deeply complex orders of positioning and attire. The optimal strategy was for the security to be as elusive as the masks everyone would wear. Every knight was given a Calling Stone provided by Merric’s students that would allow them to communicate. However, these stones only have a limited number of usages and were requested to be used sparingly.

All were ordered to wear helmets to obscure their faces and positioned across the castle. Some standing in plain sight and interacted with the guests, others acting as security checkpoints of entire hallways, while the more iron-hearted knights stood as armaments that run along the halls that would be open for mingling. Those who volunteered for the tiring job as acting as stage props were allowed the following week off and join the commoners in their festivals that’d follow the wake of this ball.

The only two knights who were barred from the complex system was Sir Cain and Marth’s Royal Guard. Sir Cain would be the only knight that would be attending the Ball openly. This rained jealousy within some of the other knights. Many attempted to lobby that if a handful of the knights could attend as well this would aid in security efforts. Cain’s elegant retort that soothed their minds of the rushes of envy was as follows; ‘Shut up. I’ve earned this after all the shit I’ve been through, and I’m not just talking about planning all this crap. If I hear any of you bitch at me about this again I’m kicking your fucking asses. You want to fucking go with me? You want to test me?? Actually, you know what? Fuck it. Fuck all of you. Get your shit brains over here. I’m kicking your fucking asses now instead of waiting for you to piss me off again.’ The distinguished lexis that the Senior Commander of the Altean Knights administered to his cohorts was exceptionally compelling.

With the role that Sir Cain will play in the tapestry that was the security’s plan officially taboo; all rumors and chatter with the personnel were now focused on the Royal Guard. The whispers that she’d be attending under a false name on the checking list was a thunder - and would enter in disguised as a noblewoman. Many more who knew her vouch that there’d be no way she’d pull off the act and went with the simpler idea that she would be allowed to stand in the crowds. Others theorized she’d be hiding in the very walls like a cat burglar. None of the theories however ever spoke about how she’d dance with the very prince themselves as his personal date. Beyond Merric, no one else knew she was aiding Marth in practicing dancing directly.

Talking with only a few select commissioned hands unattached to the palace, Marth aided Kris in getting her a dress. However, she requested that he’d not know what she looks like. She thought of it as romantic if they were able to find one another in the ball themselves. Accepting her offer after some alterations in Kris’s proposed plan, the lovers were separated by their own will for two days before the ball.

This was Kris’s biggest regret. The fear of not finding him dissolved her mind into dread and terror. Yet she said nothing of her pain for ‘a true knight perseveres to the end in any enterprise begun. Kris knew the juxtaposition of being Marth’s Knight and now his Queen-to-be would cause conflict, but she didn’t anticipate that her call of duty would rip her in two so violently and so soon.

During the encroaching fated evening, Kris sat alone in the royal bath Marth tricked the servants to prepare for her. His sinful joy of not getting caught when he was frisky had its practical boons. Kris sunk deep into her bathwater while holding the Calling Stone in her hand. She’s been staring at it for what felt like years. Her depressed pruned hands trembled and nearly dropped the stone into the water.

While Kris was getting to use a luxury she never got to experience before, Marth at the same time was cleaning himself with just a bucket of water and a rag on the floor of his own room. Mid cleaning he saw from the corner of his eye that his small stone was starting to glow. He was fast to snatch it and feel the warmth burn a message in his mind.

_“I was daft and blind to think I could pull this off. I miss you too much. I’m coming to your room. Don’t leave until I come, please. I’m so alone. I’m scared.”_

The fire that burned in the stone that allowed them to talk was but a spark compared to the roaring inferno that ignited in Marth. He rolled his stone in his hand as he used the magic to communicate back to Kris.

_“I miss you more. I shall await you, and don’t worry about your lack of invitation. I already had a backup rout in mind if you did change your mind. Would you want to spill your woes till our stones grow cold?”_

He heard nothing back from the stone that was normal speech. Instead, he heard only her finally sob and weep. Marth rubbed the jewel-like stone with his pained smiling, his face riddled with melancholia. He whispered as much as he could to her to lift her spirits while their stones glowed. Wistfully, the magic fire that was in Kris’s stone was extinguished not by her dropping it in the bath - but by her tears. He spent the rest of his stone’s energy trying to contact her till his rock grew black too. He didn’t know if his words reached her, but Kris was comforted by the rock’s dully blinking that fizzled when Marth’s light finally went out.

Marth rolled the dead stone in his hand with burning resolve. _“After hearing that made me realize that the first time I ever saw you cry was when I asked where her grandfather should be buried. I promise you, Kris, that you’ll never feel that loneliness ever again so long as I live.”_

\- - - - -

A hardy cry in a hot bath soothes a tired soul. After slipping past the maids and guards, Kris stood at the base of Marth’s tower. The back of her bare hand rested on the stone walls as she looked up the way to Marth’s room to steady her vertigo. In the stone resting hand were two objects; one was a posh hand fan with orange and gold decorations of tulips and daisies adorning it, the other hand had a refurbished butterfly mask Kris found with Sir Jagen in some ruins during the War of Heroes - it’s patterning was styled akin of a monarch butterfly. To calm herself more, she reached up to her face to touch the ruby red lipstick that was tickling her lips. She then pulled back her hand gasping. “No, don’t touch it. Don’t mess it up for him”. She scolded herself.

Kris then subconsciously realigned her plum red shawl to cover her bare shoulders and open cleavage. She fixed her black sunflower choker to still show it through the transparent parts of the shimmering scarf she wore. Once she felt she gathered enough courage she then reached down to pick up her orange dress. It was wide at the bottom common for the bell-like shape for women of the era. However, the folding in the layering made her dress resemble an upside-down orange rose. Her visible green corset on the outside of her waist sold the illusion that she was an orange rose even more - she prayed to Naga it did that is. The waving folds of the orange dress gave her plenty of movement when moving horizontally, but inclines like these was not something she prepared for when she was working with the tailors.

As she slowly sailed up the tall winding slope, the only thing louder than the clop of her crimson red heels was the rattling next to her ear. She played with the new shimmering teardrop earrings so they'd stop kissing her jawline. However, she felt like she couldn’t lean her head too far to the side otherwise it’d undo the tightly bounded wide blue bun that held her long hair back. It wouldn’t come undone, but it was a fear she had. The multicolored fake jewel floral decorations that adorned her blue bun made sure that it’d stay secured. Kris moaned in discomfort to expel some of her uneasiness While she thought to herself; _“I’m not too sure what I’m doing here, but I still like how I look. I’m glad my rainy day spending stash wasn’t stolen when Altean castle was taken from us. I wouldn’t have been able to afford any of these extra bits. I do hope he likes it too.”_

Her hands started to shake as she rotated the fan around with her nails that were painted with alternating colors between red and orange. _“Marth is only expecting me in a dress. None of my training with Marth, nay, all my years training prepared me for this day. I…I hope he thinks I look beautiful…”_

As swiftly she could flip open her pocket knife, Kris flipped open her fan and started to fan herself with both her prop and her mask. “Don’t cry. Don’t cry.” She whispered to herself as she continued to travel up the steps. “Just think of the challenges up ahead as a battle, and you’ll be okay.” She clapped the fan closed and was able to pick up the speed at which she marched.

As Marth’s room crept into view she noted that the door was cracked open with a water bucket acting as a doorstop. She stopped on the step that made her eye level with Marth’s floor and was staring at the bucket. Her heart in her ribcage twanged like a rubber ball whipped at a kid’s face. The pain stung as much as the impact too, repeatedly, with every heartbeat. _“He’s expecting me.”_ She whispered in her mind.

She held her forehead with her shaking hand. She pressed down on the stray few bangs that she stylized to escape her bun while she balanced on her red stilts. _“Of course he’s expecting me. I told him to wait for me!”_ Monkey Kris shaking at control wheel - sane Kris shouting at monkey - monkey can’t hear. _“He was expecting me. He left the door open - for me. He’s the only person who ever does that for me. He’s the only one who - who - who . . .”_ Sane Kris screaming at monkey. Monkey scream in confusion. Kris felt the winds traveling up her body. Kris was falling. Sane Kris punted Monkey off of Kris Body controls and pulled up.

Kris knelt on the towering staircase with her fists firmly clenching onto the cut of the stone. Her knees were buckled and found stability in the grooves of the steps. She was taking deep breaths as her big eyes studied the individual divots in the rock. Kris couldn’t move. She became lightheaded and was just frozen on the steps. The stubborn knight in her told her to move but Sane Kris were three gears locked in place. But Monkey Kris meekly climb over stony Sane Kris and pulled out microphone that connected Kris Brain to Kris Mouth.

“H-help?” She asked to the dead air.

“Help.” She asked again - the prince looked from his chair.

“Marth? Help me, please!” Kris started to talk louder with every cry. She would have started to shout, but then she heard some metal crash to the ground in Marth’s room. The squeak of his boots pivoting was as comforting hearing to her as the cavalry arriving in battle.

“I’m okay! I just need some help!” She called back with a nervous smile.

Her last call only slowed down the Prince from thinking this was life or death. She watched with a grin seeing a white-gloved hand reach for the bucket of water and tug it back into the room so that they’d didn’t step on it. Seconds later, Marth opened the door to look down his steps. The hall was dark. The windows that were placed periodically in the stone were small so it only allowed so much light in the space. While Kris was shrouded in shadow, it was from the moon’s glow from Marth’s open door that placed him in a spotlight for her - to the dismay of her sickly heart.

Gone was the boy’s tunic with tails that fluttered in the wind and came in a man with a figure-fitting blue suit. Kris could hear the crinkling of the thread attempting to keep the seams from popping. She knew what he mostly looked like underneath the clothing, so to see certain grooves within his clothing made her mind sprint back to racing fast nights. The yellow trimming he had trailing up his arm, the shimmering shoulder tassels, the decorative and the curving patterns of golden wheat on the front flaps of his jacket twinkling in the early evening’s light.

Underneath his navy blue jacket was a dull cyan vest with a pillow-like pattern stitched into it. If it weren’t for the other contrasting colors in his outfit distracting her, she would have just fantasized about using him as her bed and ditch the masquerade all together. His thigh-high white boots was not the first thing she anticipated seeing him choose to wear. That said, the neutral bright color did help her redirect her focus on his dark navy blue pants. Crotch area was not blocked by any fabric Monkey Kris like.

Kris gulped for air like a fish out of water to flush out the lust.

Her eyes went along the finally defined outside of his body that contrasted against the dull red of the underside of his cape. She glanced at where the outer white cape was clasped to his body. It was held on by a humble badge on top of his proud chest. Said dull bronze buckle was the same one that he wore during his travels and tribulations during the War of Shadows. Kris’s eyes then locked with her worried prince, adorning simple earrings and his circlet crown that she used as a glass-breaking stick that one time.

“Kris, are you okay?” He asked. His panicked mind made him forget she just said that she was just fine. From where Marth was standing, the night hid his lover and he could only see two things; her big orange dress, and that she was ‘not okay’. Not even waiting for a response, he rushed down to her steps and helped her up to his moonlight room. Marth walked her to his balcony where he’d move his study chair. “Here, the air should do you well.”

“Marth-“ Kris attempted to get him to calm down, but his body was working like clockwork. As they walked they both skipped over the long metal object that Marth dropped to the ground as they made their way to his open balcony.

He helped her to his chair that was looking out to the illuminated training grounds and the vastness of outer space. “All I have is bathwater, but do you _need_ a drink?” He asked as he was stroking her shoulders to calm her down. He was checking the rest of her body as if his idiotic eyes could see through the dress to check for any battle damages.

Kris then clenched his white cape and his first war’s buckle badge. She then yanked him closer as if he was a weed in the grass.

“I’m okay!” his Button snarled at them. Marth was petrified by the ringing in his ears, but as his focus zoomed out there was more about her that made him rock hard.

His eyes and lips were agape - both were wide open as his heart was for her. Without moving his head, his gloved fingertips stroked up her cheek and flicked the crystal teardrop earrings. While his astonishment was in full display, her bashfulness started to bloom like all the flowers that were on her. As he was still flicking the earring, his other hand trailed up and poked the vibrant colored jewel flowers that clipped her bun in place. His pointer finger then surfed slowly down the lines of her hair and tickled her jawline. Every touch he made felt like a butterfly’s kiss.

Both his index fingers slid down her neck and abruptly stopped at the black floral pattern choker. They felt the pattering in the tightly fitting neckless. Kris, seeing that Marth was looking down at her body, took the chance to looked at _her_ favorite spot on his. She parted her red plum shawl to expose all the skin of her chest. Marth’s fingers stopped along with his heart. Kris smirked for she was pleased to see the garden snake slither in the bluegrass and stayed stiff to stick around for a while.

Kris glanced up at Marth as she tugged a part of her dress. The small gemstones woven into the orange fabric shined like a signal flair. She was seeing if she could distract him away from where he was looking. Yet again though, the gravity ‘made’ him keep looking at a particular black hole and his light, nor his attention could escape as he was staring at her cleavage. Her blush was aglow, for she found miraculous confidence in every part of his body stiffening.

The sides of his gloves were pressing down lightly on the sides of her neck. Their pressure grew steadily more as he was sliding down to get the chance to simply pass them over her bosom. She then flopped her fan open to block him from looking any more - thus breaking the trance she had him in. He stuttered blinking, he pulled back his hands, all while Kris stood from the chair. She kept part of her face obscured with her sunset colored fan. The illusiveness she was acting upon Marth gave her his undivided attention. Seeing that she had him under her control, she walked to the front of the balcony. She tugged her shawl as if it was a jacket and took a moment to recover her chest from his eyes.

The gravity ‘made’ Marth stare at her exposed shoulder blades. Her back wasn’t fully exposed, but there was _a lot_. The shimmering shawl covered just how scandalous and improper this dress was for the dress code. He was able to pick up after staring at her for hours. The thought of other men staring at her the same made his tingling face clash with the cold shockwave of overprotectiveness that was overtaking his thoughts. Yet in his clarity, he was able to spot a detail that was only on her back. The dress was custom-tailored so that a teardrop-styled hole was around the size of Marth’s hand.

_“No, she couldn’t have.”_ His muddled mushy mind finally stitched together a coherent thought. Marth then spent a few seconds trying to measure his left hand with his right _“I refuse to believe she made that hole for me. No. There’s no way. Impossible.”_ Kris took the time to also put on her butterfly mask while Marth was breaking down. _“She wants me to hold her bare skin while we dance? In front of everyone? She trusts me that much?? If she did, then I can’t let anyone else dance with her! Oh no. No. The shadows are just making it look bigger - No! That hole was for me! I can’t let her dance with anyone but me!! Th-This is my hole! It was made for me!!”_ Monkey Marth was shaking at the front wheel while the sane man trapped inside this shaking vessel was ejecting out blood-curdling screams.

“How do I look?” Kris pivoted with her butterfly mask on. She clasped her fan with both hands and cocked her head to the side. Marth’s eyes and lips once more were agape while staring at her and the landscape behind his Button. The countryside was an obsidian black and beyond the glow from the castle’s aura, the only other light source was the vast night sky. The entrancing draw of the vast void of outer space and the river ripping milky way always comfort him in his restless nights, during his endless fighting. The glimpse at the ever-expanding universe helped made his devastating turns of his life feel small. To others, it would then translate to a spiral of dread and depression. But the futility of his struggles help gave him a scale. Seeing the milky way and the heavenly lights above helped Marth in his darkest hours. His tasks were small to the eyes of Naga. He could overcome anything for his pain was never bigger than god themselves. Yet in this fleeting moment he couldn’t tell which was a more comforting sight to him; his old friend the stars above, or her.

Marth swiped the space in front of his eyes to signal her to take off her mask. It took a few attempts from him, but Kris picked up the cue. She took off the mask and did a small pose just for him. Even in the shadows, he could see her smile. His eyes were fixated on her, but still spared a glance up to the galaxies in the sky. The stars were still the most comforting thing he’s ever seen in his life, but his Button got _pretty damn close._

Marth pulled his eyes down from being adducted by the extraterrestrial life who may live out there, somewhere. He stared back at the star that was in front of him. His slack jaw finally turned into a smile. The equal and opposite reaction was done and she beamed back. This was the first smile Kris saw from her Marth in two days, and she felt like she could jump over the moon. Marth’s shaking right hand reached out to her - yet mistaking the tell for a Night Terror made Kris come back to earth. She skipped over and skid on her heels to hold onto his trembling hand. Marth’s face was astonished by her speed and his poor cheeks were now as red as the underbelly of his white and red cape.

“Everything is okay… It’s going to be a good night…” She softly whispered to Marth’s hand as she massaged it down. The fabric of his glove was getting in the way of rubbing the way she wanted to. She plucked the bit of fabric and tossed it to the floor of Marth’s room. She stuck her fan and the corner of her butterfly mask deep into her cleavage. Once both hands were free she pushed and touched every square centimeter of his palm. It brought back memories to Marth of when they were in the carriage ride coming home - only he wasn’t even remotely ready for this petting session. Marth was breathless, speechless, and his mind was currently being crushed into a pulp by her ever-loving touch. His eyes desperately looked at anything that could help steady his mind, yet alas, his neck couldn’t bend up to stare at the lovely sky.

He could only look down at her flower pattern fan, the cleavage, her sunflower black choker, her exposed back through her semi-transparent shawl, at the shape of her orange rose dress, her red lipstick, at the flowers in her hair, her snatch bounded in green like a flower’s stem, her eyes, and at the rhinestones and water earrings that reminded him of the dew that shines on the plants at the crack of dawn. It was at that moment he had a realization at what her motif was that stung him like a bee.

He audibly drew breath from his mouth as he used his free left hand to cover his quaking lips. His knees grew weak as he took an honored step back to bask in her moon spotlight glory. She turned to him with worry in her blue misty eyes. Marth’s face was red as a rose.

“You’re a _garden!_ ” he gasps. Kris bashfully pulled out her fan and covered her blush. Marth was reaching back for the chair behind him.

“You’re a whole grove in _bloom_!” he murmured, crushed by the weight of his own love for her. He sank into his chair as she swayed in place with her eyes ablaze in victory and accomplishment. He continues to sulk back with his legs spreading out, elbow on his knee, lounging like a king would in his throne. Yet he still was too shy to act with that title's confidence as he covered his red face.

“I’m _unworthy_ …” he sighed blissfuly.

Kris clicked her tongue as she briefly assumed her typical power stance and shook her head at how overly swooned he was for her. She then marching over to him. The _clop_ of her _heels_ finally reached his _ears_ , and that’s when he started to slide out of the chair like cupid just shot him through the heart. Kris hoisted him back into his chair by his armpits like he was a sack of meat.

“Don’t be a drama queen with me. I thought that was _going to be_ my job!” She grinned as she tightened her grip on him lovingly and rested their foreheads together. The tips of their noses once again kissed.

The huff that did come from his mouth _implied_ a laugh. Marth reached out the bottom of her chin to hold her still. He started to tilt his head and bring their lips closer together. He whispered to her. “I Love-.“

He kissed the wood of her decorative fan. Kris pushed Marth’s head back with said fan. She then pulled back and waved her folded fan back and forth while clicking her tongue at the roof of her mouth.

“Naughty kitty.” She softly scolded. Marth’s shocked face was redder than the blood that pumped in it. “Kissing a woman without her _permission_. How _dare_ you.” There was a very soft elevation of her volume with the last word she said. Her smirk grew. She was about to break character.To save face, she flicked her fan open and only showed her eyes - which too - were being covered by her butterfly mask she was putting on mid-sentence.

“What’s _next_? You’re going to slam me against the _window_ and have _your way with me_ while the guards watch? Perish the thought, Master Marth. _Perish_ the thought.“ Marth was silent bar from stuttering on his own breath. With her mask fully on - metaphorically and _literally_ \- she flicked her wrist to close her fan with a clop of the wood brick and gave a devil’s ear-to-ear grin. The mess of a man that was in front of her could only now stare at her red lips.

“‘Bit of a _rubbish_ place to have your first kiss, wouldn’t you say? And did I hear a ‘I love-‘? I love _what?_ I hope it’s ‘I love waiting’. Now then, where’s your mask you hopeless casanova?” She toyed with him as she swayed her orange rose dress from side to side.

Marth physically had to extend his collar out so his adam's apple could move when he gulped. “It’s in my vanity.” he was able to say shockingly well.

Kris nodded at him then turned to look in his room. Her eyes were gravitated to the floor and saw Caeda’s Wingspear on the floor. He was holding it before Kris tripped on the steps and he dropped it. “Marth, what the heck? You dropped Caeda!”

Marth scoffed as he shook his head to calm his nerves. “It’s just a spear, Kris”.

Kris stopped as she was putting Caeda’s wingspear on the weapon rack and stroked the handle. She gave a very conflicted smile as she stared at the reflection in her spearhead. _“I don’t know if you’d be happy to have heard that, or sad. But don’t worry, Caeda, I still think you’re here.”_ She thought to herself.

Kris then lovingly gave the spearhead a kiss on the flat of the blade - yet then promptly panicked when she forgot her lipstick smeared so there was a little kiss stain on the metal. Kris looked behind her and saw Marth gathering his breath as he looked up at the night sky. She then looked back at the spear. Not knowing what to do, she just flipped the spear around and figured she’d clean it later.

She then looked to the vanity with it’s chair still in it. She didn’t feel too comfortable digging into the drawers of his own personal belongings. She caught a glimpse of what she looked like in his vanity mirror. The butterfly mask was so alien - she didn’t look like herself at all. Kris took a moment to take her mask off for now and looked inside herself. At her reflection, she still saw Marth looking at the starry night sky.

 _“I called this place a rubbish place to do what I truly wanted to do? …What was I thinking? I'm still daft and blind to think I can keep this stupid masquerade going.”_ She thought to herself as she then looked over at Caeda’s spear. _“Caeda, Please forgive me. Please give me strength - and please give your blessing”._

Abandoning her fan and her mask, she opted only then to take his wooden chair to his vanity over to Marth. She walked up next to the prince holding up the chair. “May I sit next to you before we depart? I want some alone time with you before the Ball.”

Marth looked up to his flower with an air of neutrality to her blank face. But when Kris curled up showing her weakness to him, he smiled wide and nodded his head in agreement. When Kris did place the chair down next to his study chair, it was close enough where she could just invade Marth’s personal space. As she hugged up against his side, his arm was already wrapping around her. Marth crossed his legs, which gave a little ledge for Kris to pull herself closer.

“What’s wrong, Button?” Marth whispered to her as he kissed her forehead.

“Why were you holding Caeda’s spear before I came in?” She talked into his chest.

Marth shifted his weight up and pointed to the lights that were coming from the training grounds near the base of the tower. “I wanted her to see our friends that were coming in.”

Hearing about their friends distracted Kris from her god-given mission and sat up to try to look over the railing. “Oh, who came so far?”

Marth lightly tugged her back so she’d lean on his body again as he looked up to the stars. This casual conversation was giving him a simple bliss no luxury can afford. “Linde, Jeorge, Gordin. Draug. Norne. Astram and his wife-“

“If that bastard says he wants your head I’m cutting his off with my jewels”.

Marth rubbed her down. “I think we’re _well_ past those days, Kris.”

Kris chuckled. “Anyone else?”

Marth had a sunken smile as he looked off at the star-kissed horizon. In his heart, he wished for all his past comrades who didn’t come tonight a safe evening. “I’m waiting for Arlen to make his grand entrance in front of Merric’s students before I was going to wait for you at the base of my tower. You know how ‘larger than life’ he is, so I figured it’d be a good show.”

Kris leaned over grinning at him. “By that you mean; ‘I need to one-up you at everything with my lightning magic, Merric’?”

Marth softly scoffed again. He didn’t say so, but his body language did agree with her. Marth continued; “Yuliya couldn’t come, but she gave her ‘spot’ to Tiki to come home early instead. She was coming with Arlen.” He huffed out a laugh as he scratched the back of his head. “I hope you don’t mind a little competition. But I’m hoping that she tires herself out with playing with the other kids before she finds me at this ball.”

Kris played with her earring smirking. “Well, so long as she doesn’t use her dragonstone to transform just to scare you out to the open - I think everything will be just fine.” Kris expected a volley from Marth, but there was nothing. Marth was looking up at the milky way just above them.

“…Caeda never got to meet Arlen. That’s why I was holding it before you came.” He spoke when staring high at Naga’s spilled drink. The dead night air blew through Marth’s empty room.

“Marth…” Kris said as she looked worryingly at him with a smile. “She’s still there. All weapons have the soul of-“

“It’s just a stick that failed its job”. Marth volley to her. His word landed, and weighted down her smile to a frown. Marth hunched over in his chair and looked at where the ball was being hosted from his balcony. It was on the ground floor of the castle. The inside was beaming with an orange light, while it spilled out into the cool blue darkness that was the open garden. There were people there already, but he knew the party was going to last for a very long time.

Marth continued with a melancholic smile; “It won’t be the second we walk in there, but once we do, eventually people are going to swarm me. I just know my luck, I’ll be found out quick. The world knows I need a queen, Kris. After this ball, my coronation to become king will come soon too.”

The poor man’s voice grew shaken and slow; “A part of me still thinks you’re not comfortable with me. These past days and even now I kept thinking you’d find another man at this dance you’d like more than me. Or worse, I discover that everything we did was faked. It’s not you, it’s me. I had this exact problem with Caeda. Leading you in my army was one thing, but to-…”

He shook his head no, with his Button worryingly clasping her heart trying to process how to save her Marth from his downer thoughts. He continued; “This is so much more. I can’t sleep well on these still waters - I know too well how rocky they can become. And I’m just feeling like I’m drowning you.”

“This is my fault”. She admitted.

Marth sat up and looked at her shamefully looking away. “No, it’s mine-“

“Listen to me.” To keep him from taking the blame as always she stood up. Like a proper lady she held her clasp hands in front of her body. Seeing her poised made Marth’s heart pumped to witness yet another side of her.

“I know this confession won’t solve everything but I just need to say it. I kept making you think I needed practice, Marth. I kept telling you that what we were doing wasn’t real. You are my boyfriend, we had our first kiss already, and I love you. I love you so much. Yet my actions just now did not show it. I just pushed you away from a kiss with me with my fan - like a _heartless_ witch! I’m sorry.”

Marth held a scorn at her shaking his head no. “Kris, that fan bit was not wrong at all!” Sane Marth went to retort to calm her down, but Monkey Marth need to make a last-minute course correction.Marth let his true feelings bumble out of his stupid lips; “It was hot!” He said with the straightest of faces.

Kris blinked. “What?”

Marth blankly looked out into the void of and had to stick with the cards that were dealt. “That was. That was very….very….very. I would not mind if you did that to me again. If. You were. If. Comfortable. If you. I would _like it_ if you could do that to me again, _if_ and _only if,_ you are comfortable… _Please_. _Please do not force it._ ”

Kris looked at him with a plastic smile. She then walked up close to Marth, bent down and kept her head tilted to be perpendicular to his. Marth’s composure was being tested. She leaned in closer and the poor man was shaking in anticipation.

“ _Naughty_ _Kitty_ ”. She whispered.

The two adult children broke into a laughing fit as they hugged each other. In their simple joy, a bit of frisky lust got mixed in the better-growing mood. Since he had her in his arms already, he hoisted her up and made her sit across his lap. If she did have cat ears they would be perked up in alertness. He held her chin and brought his face close to hers.

“Naughty indeed”. He said with the smuggest of smirks. Kris shakily gasped as she tried to pull back. Marth rested a boot on the railing of his balcony so she’d only meet his leg. He encouraged her to come back to his face with some tugging but did not demand her to do so. After a slight pause of hesitation, his favorite cat came crawling back. The two were very comfortable in these wooden old chairs.

Kris went to kiss Marth, but he stopped her right before she could by resting his fingers on her chin - taking notes from how she blocked him before. She was stuttering in her breath as she waited for him. Having the control back in at least Kris in his life gave him a warm foundation, even if it was so risqué. He slowly pushed her back till they were resting nose tips.

“What’s this on your face?” He asked.

Kris stuttered and offered only ‘hums’ and ‘uhms’ to him. Marth’s smile grew larger as he tilted his head to rub the tip of his nose into hers.

“You’re not wearing anything else on your face, so what is this?” The king of smug asked his queen of coy.

“I-it’s lipstick” Kris was able to stutter out. She whimpered as Marth slid down closer to her lips.

“I can see that. Were you saving this for that ‘false first kiss’ tonight?” He asked.

Kris gasped. “Yes.”

“A big grand finale kiss? One with a lot of _smearing_ lipstick? All for little old me?” He asked as he twisted his nose into hers.

Marth had to struggle to hold Kris’s head back, forcing her to respond. “Yes.”

He allowed her to move just a hair strand closer as he brought his voice as low as a cricket chirp. “May I have _all_ _of it_ right now?”

Shaking in breath she nodded her head yes. He shot a massive grin as he finally let her kiss him. He was grinning ear to ear when he was being smothered by her love. Each kiss she left on him left ruby red lipstick mark. She kissed him all over his face and trailed down his neck.

“Not on the clothes!” He playfully scolded as he held her chin. He guided her head back up to their lips and they locked once more. To make sure she was getting all the lipstick off, he was biting and sucking them. Moans were as plenty as the star-filled sky above them.

While Kris was painting her next masterpiece, the mage Arlen arrived with the little green-haired girl named Tiki. Wearing a big poofy wedding dress and a large shiny rock hung around her like a neckless, Tiki ran to Merric and Elice giving them the biggest hug her little arms could give them. The wizard Arlen put on a show for Merric’s students awaiting them. The mage held his hand to the sky and summoned a mighty thunderbolt that rattled all eardrums in the area. For Marth and Kris to be outside at their elevation it was as if a flash bomb went off. Marth grabbed Kris and leapt back into his bedroom. He was holding her bridal style as both of them where heavily panting.

“I AM ARLEN!!THE MASTER OF THORON!! THE-“

“YOU DON’T NEED TO YELL AFTER THAT!!”

“SILENCE, MERRIC!!”

Their screams could be heard all the way from Marth’s tower. It was a lovely reunion.

Lipstick was smeared across Marth’s face like it was warpaint from that fright. Kris timidly poked her lover’s red cheek. “Y-You think that was a sign from Naga we should get moving?”

Marth nodded his head rapidly. “If that wasn’t a divine intervention, I’m unsure what that’d be.”

The two lovers used what was remaining of the bathwater to clean themselves at Marth’s vanity. The bucket of water was red when they were done cleaning themselves. At the end of their session, Marth was sprouting an impish joy. “Oh Kris!! I get to show you my mask now! It’s just by chance that we match!” He said with a child-like glee. He pulled from his drawer a dark blue metal mask with only three slits for each eye. Dull decorative gold painted on its thin metal clasped on his face well. The cutting resembled a butterfly. He was quick to put it on and look down at her. “Look, it’s a butterfly mask - like yours!”

Kris squinted at Marth’s face. “That’s not a butterfly. It looks more like armor. How can you even see through it? The eyespots are so small.”

Marth jerked backed from her retort. “I can see just fine!” Marth dug through his vanity draws looking for a brush to correct his hair to better fit his mask. “Anything I wear is just going to be written down by the bards, you know that. It was remotely tempting to pick an ugly mask so when future people who want to copy me would think it was the style, but I settled instead on the best mask could. I thought you’d like it.”

Kris divisively waves off Marth as she was doing last-minute touches to her bun hair. She was trying to get the stray hairs to go over her own butterfly mask. “It’s not a mask, it’s just an eye visor you ripped off of a poor helmet. It doesn’t even look like it could even protect you from a sword slash. A simple dagger could cut through that thing. You expect that thing to keep you safe if you were ambushed by a foe in the bushes? Please.”

Marth gawked at her as he was making a last-minute choice to forgo wearing his gloves to the ball. He was making last-minute corrections too so he was perfect for his kingdom, and for her. “Who’d knew you’d be so _prickly_ with what bugs pollinate you, _Pine.”_

Kris spat in the mirror with how sharp her laugh was. Yet after she recovered she was still looking at her reflection with dissatisfaction. Her sadness was evident through her lips alone. “What’s wrong, and how may I help?” The blue butterfly asked his orange flower garden.

Once again, Kris was fighting the knight inside of her to follow her plans to the end. It was a struggle to pull back her pride and cave to Marth’s loving guidance. It was a battle she’d always fight for him - even if she was just her knight still. “I’m feeling uncomfortable. I feel tight in the head, and this corset is tighter than my belt. Did you ever tend to Caeda’s preparations - and may you help me?”

“That I have. Lower your hair, I think I know a style that’d suit you better. Wait here.” Marth said to his orange butterfly. As Kris took out each of the interlocking flower clips that held her long blue hair together and placed them on the vanity countertop, Marth fluttered across his room and grabbed the vanity chair that fallen over during the wizard’s magic show. Yet as he was, he saw the little girl dressed as a bride wondering right at the base of his tower. He thought he heard a buzzing, but now outside he could hear the green ponytail girl calling out.

“Mar-Mar!!” The little girl called for him. She was so far away from all the other children that crowded around Merric just over yonder. She was straying further away from the ball just to find him. “Mar-Mar! Where are you?!”

He shook his head with a sigh. He had to think of a way to get Tiki away from him, please her, and notify Merric so he could keep having alone time with Kris. He figured the best way was to be spotted. He held his gloveless hand to his mouth and gave the loudest whistle he could sing. Merric felt the sharp shift happen in the wind and look to Marth’s tower. Tiki looked up and saw Marth waving down at her. The little princess bride was jumping up and down in her twinkling dress.

“Mar-Mar!! Mar-Mar!!” Tiki waved up at him frantically. Out of Marth’s earshot, Merric was calling out for Tiki, which caught the little girl’s attention. Picking up her dress she scurried back to all the other children and held hands with Merric. Marth sighed as he watch them walk away to the orange glowing ball.

_“Thanks Merric, I can always count on you. Take care of Elice for me - too.”_ Marth thought with a blushing smile.

Marth returned to the vanity with Kris’s chair. The first thing he did when she sat down pulled out his Falchion from its scabbard. Using its divine edge he slit off the tight green corset that was bounding her gut and have it drop to the floor around them. Kris looked down at the scrap while Marth returned Naga’s Fang back into its scabbard.

“But aren’t women supposed to wear those? And why’d you cut it?” Kris asked, miraculously calm when Marth just took his god-slaying sword to her belly just now.

Marth focused on brushing her hair back so it was all behind her and easy to stylize. With his strength, he was able to comb out all the knots in her hair that Kris skillfully hid in her bun before. “They do, but you bounded it too tight. No wonder why you near fainted on the steps. With how active we’ll be on the dance floor it’s best you don’t bother with the dress code so strictly.”

The only verbal response Kris gave was the clop of her floral pattern fan opening up and hiding her face from the reflection. Marth’s heart fluttered seeing her be bashful. “You’re so cute”. He let his lips bumble on.

Kris looked away from the mirror, but with his ever-tight grip on here hair he reflexively fought back. He made her look forward, back at the mirror. For her, she was still looking at her fan. “You’re beautiful.” He continued to encourage her.

Both of their hearts started to beat faster. He was grabbing each of the decorative sharp flowers and clipping it into her hair. “Caeda always wanted to make you feel beautiful like this, Kris. Don’t reject who you are.”

“This is just a costume though… As fun as it is, this isn’t who I am. Only this costume is beautiful.” She spoke to the fan. She couldn’t see what elaborate style Marth was putting her hair in.

“Well… I know that the hairstyle I’m giving you right now is the style Caeda would have wanted you to feel pretty in, night and day, even beyond this ball - This I know with my whole heart.” He said as he put the last flower clip in her hair. He then pinched the fan that was blocking her face. “Do you trust my word?”

“I trust and follow your word, always,” she said with no hesitation, which made his heartbeat in both bliss and pain.

 _“If only Caeda did the same. I’m sorry I fought with you so much, dear. I hope I did this right.”_ He thought to a person who he knew wasn’t here. He moved Kris’s fan to the side for the grand reveal; It was just her normal ponytail - the one she’d wear on the job. The only two bits fancy about it was that her bangs hung decoratively over her mask and her hair was held back with all the flowers.

Her expression was obscured by the mask but her body language expressed that she was perplexed. As she examined herself in the mirror, Marth reached into his vanity draws to find any perfume that was floral scented.

“This is… Just my normal hair, Sire.” She said as she tapped the flowers while going back into her knightly persona. She acquainted different appearances to different masks that she had to wear, so she defaulted back to her knightly tone as her own slip of the tongue.

He found a suitable perfume from his leftover collection that Caeda left behind. He applied a little on himself. He then took the trust he built with Kris for granted as he stole the shawl right from her body. He sprits down the fabric then tied the shawl back on her. “We both loved you just the way you are. As dynamic and chaotic as you can be.”

She was enjoying the smell of her shawl as she rubbed her nose into it. Both the smell and his words were melting her heart. She lacked any words to directly respond to him as she clenched her heart. “Yet…Is what I have on appropriate? I know everything might not be but…”

“With how stunning you’ll look on the dance floor I doubt anyone will question you don’t belong there. Shall we?” He spoke with the utmost confidence and held his hand out to her. With his dark blue butterfly mask on, all she could focus on was his smiling lips.

 _“I forgot to ask him my question…I got so caught up in the moment.”_ She lamented while apprehensive about leaving just this second. Yet his smile melted her heart. _“I guess it can wait for later.”_ She continued to think with a smile. She held his hand and the two left for the ball together through the sleepy azure halls - is what would have been written if Kris didn’t stop right at the steps when descending down Marth’s staircase.

Marth looked up at his garden intensively stopping himself from walking on ahead without her. “Is something wrong, dear?”

Kris was gripping the bottom of her dress, shaking like a lost puppy in the rain. “I don’t know how to walk down stairs yet! Can you carry me, please?!”


	13. What a Fancy Party to Puke At

No human-made light could rival the stars that glowed from lightyears beyond. Yet, what those light sources lacked was life itself. For the living things that were birthed under this star now challenged the god’s design tonight. The orange sheen from the masquerade’s main halls rivaled the very sun itself.As the world turned, as night claimed it all in its sleepy shawl, it was Altea Castle that acted as a light beacon for all the fashionably late arrivals.

Carriages rolled in both in the castle’s front and back entrances. All the knights of Marth’s trust were only disguised by their height and their preferred choice of weapons. They stood tall and acted as a picket fence to guide the courtly sheeple.

At the foot of the main entrances to the towering high main hall was an accessible checkpoint. There were three main entrances; positioned to the East, West, and South. The north spilled into a royal open garden and was illuminated only by glowing bugs and the milky way night sky.

At the main checkpoint, the guest would approach the desk where a knight or two sat. The imperious dressed aristocrats would present them their invitation letter - they would be marked down with a quill pen - the letter would be confiscated - and then they were allowed passage in. If a letter was not present for the individual participant they were rejected, but allowed to converse in the secretly guarded outer halls. Everyone needed a letter to enter.

The logbook that the knights wrote in had ley lines that connected them. Any mark drawn in them was written into their sister and brother parchment. Each knight too held their limited use Calling Stones. Magic was used to eliminate all secrecy at this masked waltz.

As the guests walked across the threshold they could bask in one of Altea’s finest worldly marvels. The ceiling stretched three stories high with chandeliers that glistened like a sun shower. The hall was long and horizontal. While the open center preserved for the ones who wished to dance, the sides lined with pillars are where the folk mingled. Food and tables were aplenty and a grand corner was preserved for the orchestra who’d cycle between after several long sets.

Stray particles drifted about like shimmering snowfall, magical lights, that acted as conduits for this ball’s gimmick. While in the main hall, or in the blue moonlight garden due north, the guests’ voice was changed to a generic man, them, or woman. Magic could not hide the appearance of the well-dressed guests - but a lot more mingling happened than some had expected. This, however, did not stop one individual from finding his friend.

A towering man - broad in build - and wearing a bear's mask walked into the main hall with his little pink tulip masked wife. She clung to his side, his arm wrapped around her. The pink tulip sighed in bliss daydreaming of their perfect night. The smiling bear however was scanning across this once battlefield for another. Seeing that they couldn’t find their true lover, the man sucked in his gut, and then roared louder than the orchestra.

“CAAAAAIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIN!!!”

The woodwinds of the band screamed as many of the guests turned in silence to look at this raving man who was calm and standing perfectly still. Cain then walked out to the bear. Cain was in a red suit and was wearing a bull mask, _what else did you expect?_

“Draug! you made it!” Cain shouted as things slowly went back to normal.

“Long time no see, you son of a lynch.” Draug said as the two men hugged and pounded their fists into each other’s backs.

The little wife held a scorn watching them spin, and Cain saw her over Draug’s shoulder. “Oh, and hi Norne!” He called out to his comrade.

“Where’s the meed?” Asked Draug the Bear.

“Right this way”, the shofar Cain directed him to the east of the hall. “I was able to scoop up the others, but you’re going to meet my new friend too. He’s an archer from what’s-it’s-face across the pond, named Balm!”

“Man Cain, even across the sea - why is every archer we meet have green hair except Norne and Jeorge?” Draug asked as he was being guided away from the scowling Norne.

Cain stopped abruptly and looked at him. “How’d you know his hair was green already?”

Draug was fighting back a tidal wave of erupting laughter. “Wait, I was just joking. Was I right!?”

The two men then parted the sea of the dance attending patrons with how powerful their laughing was. If the mask could show Norne’s cowl, it would have wilted the very flower that was on her face. She made a mental note of where her man was to check on him periodically and then went off to mingle with other people.

Cain guided Draug to his little man fort he built out of a table for his friends. Outside of this new ‘Balm’ person, there wasn’t a stranger at this makeshift private feast. At the table, there was a short standing green hair man shoveling down as much food as he could. The man wore a chicken mask. He was Gordin - ex-knight of Altea and member of the commoner protecting Archanean Rangers. Dancing near the food were two other members of the Archanean Rangers; Astram and his lovely wife. Their masks were normal - as too the appearance they wanted to uphold. As Draug walked closer, the two lovers drifted away and disappeared in the crowds for they only wished to have a normal romantic evening.

The head of the Archanean Rangers whom was watching them already knew the futility of the lover’s efforts. Still, he remained silent to let them dream their fantasy. Jeorge, the head of the civilian protecting rangers, was leaning his back against the wall. He was a slender man but his tall black suit hid his true build. His blond ponytail swayed like a snake's tail - which complemented Jeorge’s striking green snake mask.

Right beside the snake who was doing a slav squat was a young man wearing a male lion mask. This was Balm the archer from across the sea. He looked fancy but the mannerisms of this traveler were crude and were emphasized due to his drunkenness. It was clear this nobleman had a commoner’s upbringing. In his hand, he had open a bottle of wine who he was feeding it to all his new friends. He was pouring another glass for Jeorge, and the two clang their drinks together. Jeorge drank from his wine glass, while Balm drank straight from the bottle.

“Aye, you going to save some for me?” Draug said as Cain led him into the gentlemen’s club. The bear walked over to the squatting kingly lion. A lifelong friendship was forged in a single motion as Balm offered Draug the whole wine bottle. Draug bellowed in laughter and shook hands with Balm the Lion. Balm’s right hand was the only hand he wore a bright red glove over.

Jeorge shook his head as he slithered his way over to Cain the Bull who assumed an on-guard stance. Cain’s hands were clasped behind his back, no different from how he was when standing with royalty. Jeorge the Snake slipped up beside him as he smelled his rare wine that was gifted to him from the lion king.

“The pegasus dung you guys get yourself into never ceases to amaze me.” Jeorge said as he took another shot from his glass.

Cain, who was on guard, allowed himself to smile. He still however was diligently looking for intruders or assassins who may want to target the ruler of Valentia, Saint-King Alm I, who was getting pissed drunk right behind him.

“Dung makes for good soil for a future harvest, so I don’t mind shoveling it.” Cain volleyed to the slender sniper. Thoughts of the misplaced Queen of Valentia weighed down on Cain’s mind as well as his happy mood. With a frown, they looked down at their normally stone-faced friend. “Can you see where she is, Jeorge?”

With a blushing drunk smile, the snake shook his head as both men were still facing forward and standing side by side. “You know my powers don’t work like that.”

The bull rolled his eyes. “What good is having foresight if you can’t use it to find a damn thing?”

Jeorge pointed his wineglass forward. “She’ll come to him. That’s all I can see.”

“What about their posse then?” Cain referenced the brotherhood of knights that were meant to accompany Alm and his queen; Celica.

Jeorge closed his eyes as he smelled Alm’s rare wine. Pure bliss kissed his nose as he spun the wine glass stem in-between his fingertips. “They’re having fun in the markets and local inn. They didn’t want to ruin the lover’s trip. They trust us, so don’t grow grey hairs that Jagen had on me already.”

Cain huffed from his nose to that retort. The snake slyly smiled seeing he was getting under Cain’s skin. “Where’s Linde at least? I couldn’t find her.” He asked about their comrade.

Jeorge took a sip. “Dancing, trying to find a boyfriend. She’s not interested in you.”

“Wha-?“ The accusation took Cain off guard and shot Jeorge a leer. “Alright, Cool. When’s _he_ coming then?” Cain was finally inquiring about Marth’s whereabouts.

Jeorge swiveled his wine glass as his body ever slightly shifted from side to side. “That’ll happen soon. Don’t ask me who’s the lucky lady though - I still don’t… _quite_ know.”

“Why not?”

“I’m drunk. My visions right now just see mostly pretty colors, and Tiki happily turning into a dragon then everyone cheering for some reason.” Jeorge confessed.

“But he _will_ find a girl tonight?” Cain asked neutrally but was rocking his weight in anticipation.

The sniper was silent as he finally frowned. He was attempting to focus through his intoxication and use his family’s gift of foresight more carefully. He gathered his breath before speaking. “The one that Tiki eatssss…?” Jeorge’s head tilted to the side like an owl. “…the person she’ll hold in her mouth-…?” Jeorge then looked away as he scratched behind his own ear. “Wait no. Tiki’s just eating flowers as a dragon.” He then look diagonally past Cain as he was just blinking. Some experience double vision when drunk - for Jeorge it was that but squared, or quadrupled squared with the futures that could unfold. “Marth will have fun tonight. I do know that much.”

“I see why you refused to drink when you were in the army.” Cain said while patiently waiting for their friend.

Jeorge slowly nodded his head while he just blankly stared. Cain huff out a laugh. “Okay. Good. Thanks. It’s nice to hear there’s a chance for my little buddy.” Cain referenced Marth affectionally.

“You’re welcome.” Jeorge went to take another drink from his glass. “Oh, by the way. To your right, do a spy check.”

Cain punched the wall with the side of his fist. The walls were hollow with enough room for maybe one and a half people to fit. Cain looked at the wall as he then rested his whole palm on the stone. He waited to feel the vibrations of the unwelcome stowaways to move inside of it. His attention however was shattered when Jeorge let out a genuine scoff.

“Sorry, I mixed up my nouns.” Jeorge said.

“The heck you talking about?” The bull questioned.

“For a moment there I forgot ‘a couple of alleyway cats’ and ‘a pair of cat-burglars’ were too different things. There’s nothing wrong, Cain, it’s just two strays.” The tipsy snake said while he sipped his spirits - unaware of the chaos he just caused.

\- - - - - 

The orange and blue lovers could have gone to this event in the normal way, but both of them didn’t want to be separated - not even for a second. And even if they could have gone in the same entrance, they'd still have stand so far apart in the line. Marth refused to have that. The thought of them being apart only brought a Night Terror of hearing Kris cry again. Marth made a vow he’d never make Kris feel lonely so long as he lived, and he planned to keep that promise. So, thus, with no other logical way to go about this - the slow-witted bubbling fools were attempting to sneak into the highly secured event. 

Marth had two routes in mind he already prepared just in case Kris backed out of the idea of trying to find each other at the dance. There was a route that required passing a checkpoint with two other knights. He stationed them in a minor side passage to the west of the main hall personally. Both knights he handpicked he evaluated had weak resolve and would be easy to bypass with a bit of convincing and force. However, that still required to interact with people. For now, Marth was attempting their first indirect route. It helped that Kris was willing to try this impractical idea.

The grand hall had balconies reserved for the staff to both relax in and manage the ceiling. If they could get up to the higher floors without detection then they can just walk down the stairs to get to the main floor. However, these balcony steps were not connected to any other higher-level - the only staircase to get to these balconies that kissed the chandeliers was from within the ball’s hall.

Marth knew this castle though, all the ins and outs, and every secret passageway. The walls were not solid, and there were many support beams that burrowed through the wood to support the balconies. When Marth was a child he’d hide in the walls and scale up, he’d do this for training and for play. He knew a part of the wall on the highest level of this tall hall had a trap door they could use to get to the balcony and then walk down to the ground floor. They just needed to get up there.

The duo of cat-burglars were inside the walls along the east side of the ball. Marth was taking point as they squeezed through the narrow hall. The sly crack or two from the walls gave them enough light as they attempted to scale up to each support beam.

“This area was a _little_ smaller than I remember it being.” Marth said as he was pressing his back against the wall with his feet guiding him.

Forcing his body to be sandwiched between both of the walls, he slowly scaled up to the next elevation. He had to carefully pivoted around on the small beam once he was able to stand. His cape came in handy in this situation for it acted as a good makeshift rope. He had it off his body and tied around his hand. He’d squat down and lower his arm that had the cape tied to it. Kris was eyeballing the jump with careful consideration as she stood on a level just below Marth.

“You calling us _both_ fat?” Kris shot her snark reply while holding her fan in her teeth.

She then made another jump to grab his cape. Marth then would pull her up to his level. She’d normally simply hang from the next support beam as she waited Marth set up another escalation and simply pull herself up when he was gone. This round though, he pulled her up to his level so he could take a break. Once they were toe-to-toe he smiled at her as he caught his breath. He’d stare at her beauty, and his stupid monkey brain made him only think of her. He then glances to the side to try to read his mind. It was left blank.

“You know, I can’t think of a retort for that one.” He confessed.

His idiocy made him both not think of anything better to say to her, as well as what got them both in this stupid situation. His foolhardiness was charming to Kris. She giggled, then started to laugh. She muffled her joy by shoving her head into his chest. Marth would hug her to join her joy.

Kris pulled back her head and took in the place they were in. It was dusty, dark, and the muffle of the world was going slightly softer with every beam they jumped to. They were a little over halfway up to the first-story floor. They made quite of bit of progress, but there was still more to go. “Would you have ever done this with Caeda?” Kris asked out of raw curiosity.

Marth’s reactionary response was to shove his head into her shawl and giggle into it. He pulled his blushing head as he shook his head. “She would have _killed_ me.”

Kris was grinning while repressing yet another giggle fit. “Why though?”

“This isn’t what you’re supposed to do at a _Ball!”_ Marth said from in-between his laughs.

“But I’m having a _ball_ doing this with you!” She said with confidence.

“What does that even mean?!” Marth’s laughter was hitting the high notes.

“It means I’m having fun! I heard a lot of people rumor about me protecting you by hiding in the walls. I’m amazed that fate had it happen! And I even get to work out my arms today!” Kris said with the sunniest of smiles.

“Kris, you don’t need to work out every single day!” Marth was still laughing.

It was then Jeorge the Snake ask Cain the Bull to do a spy check. Both Kris and Marth weren’t too sure if it was the strength in which Cain could punch a wall and made their support beam vibrate, or how well-timed the hit was that startled them. Regardless of the reason, both of them were scared like cats. Both of them held each other, then slipped, losing all their progress.

They were falling, but Marth made sure he was the one who hit the ground first between the both of them. But before he did he felt her thighs crush his sides. He found himself dangling with Kris supporting them with her arms pressing on each of the walls. Her butterfly mask hid the struggle she was genuinely in, but she was strong enough to at least catch both of them.

“This… is why I… never skip… any day!” Kris struggled to say, but still said it with a smile with her fan being clenched in her teeth.

Marth’s heart thumped in his chest. Regretfully, he was used to her saving him in the War of Heros. His heart back then would beat for her out of camaraderie. Yet tonight was different - especially with their most recent two whole days spent apart that made Kris weep. Marth felt a swell of emotions burst in his chest, with each burning a different desire. _“Gods, what would I do without her?”_ He thought to himself while gawking at his Button. Those fires, for now, lowered as preservation kicked in. He saw her slipping, and went to pitch in. He straighten out his body with Kris landing on him. Both did what they could to get friction to slow their decline. The descent to ground level was agonizing.

They made impact with the dusty floor. Kris was sitting in Marth’s lap in the darkness in-between the castle walls. Her legs spread out to each side of him as the walls cradled Marth and forced him to be Kris’s saddle. Marth suffered the most recoil damage for he was using his head to slow their fall. Kris took the fan out of her mouth and took off both of their masks so she could better see and speak to her man.

“Master Marth, are you okay?” Kris asked worryingly.

“Just….fine…Button.” Marth lied through his clenched teeth.

Kris reached down for the cape that was tied around Marth’s arm and stole it from him. She bounded it up in a roll and put it behind his head to give him a pillow. “Stay still for now then. Pain’s only temporary.”

As she was moving around, their crotch continued to rub against one another. The tingling, the warmth, the love he had felt for her before was sparked alive again from that friction. He tried to repress it, but he let out a decaying moan. The ever-diligent Dame Kris heard the odd sound from Prince Marth’s lips and instinctually thought of it as ‘pain’. Yet, it took a second for his Button to process the message he was truly saying.

“D-…Did you like that movement?” Kris asked as her heart started to pound in her chest. Her knightly worries and her compassion for him made her more anxious. “I-I could, I could do that more if it’d distract you from your wounds!” Kris sputtered out.

The pain of being a human parachute did not compare to the tremors that were going on inside of Marth after hearing that. His eyes were wide open yet he did not speak. Kris continued. “I want you happy, Marth. You know I’d do anything for-“ His body cut her off as she felt the saddle underneath her poke her. Kris eyes widen as Marth’s went shut tight. Yet, to keep her from moving he held her spread-out thighs. If she started to rock he’d push on her hip bones with only his rock-like thumbs. His left sword hand started to jitter around in a circle upon her thigh. Internally he was fighting away so many ‘wants’ just to dig for his ‘needs’. The process war against himself hurt more than his body being grated against the wall like cheese.

“I need you to want it for yourself, and not because you’re worried about me.” Marth forced himself to say. “Pain’s only…only temporary - as you said.” As if subconsciously accepting defeat, Kris felt her saddle growing soft with every word. The knight side of her did not fair well when her master gave her a chance to follow her heart. Yet now, she did have her own selfish desires to follow. Timidly she held his shoulders as her grip began to shake.

“I’m…I’m the happiest when you’re happy. This was true before and after we started dating. Please…I-I… I-I love it when you get so happy that you just move by yourself. It’s the only chance I get to call you my naughty kitty! You’re a good kitty to everyone else in the world! But I always see your good kitty! I love your naughty kitty! Be my naughty kitty please!” Kris squeaked through her trembling puffy lips. Her eyes squinted shut, her body all curled up. The dust dancing around them.

“Naga, smite me dead.” Marth cursed from his mouth, his voice as husk as wood’s bark. Hearing Marth let out even a _mild_ curse took Kris off guard. She went to open her mouth to talk, but he was already kissing her. Marth pushed the limits just to see how far he could feel down the back door hole of her dress. Feeling her skin with his bare hands made it all the easier to just dream she wore nothing while sitting on top of him.

The entire time she kept her hands on his shoulders and let him ravage her mouth. Her expression was stoic with how calmly she kept her eyes closed and wasn’t making a sound. Yet her faster breathing and how active she was in their kiss showed all the excitement Marth needed to know she was accepting this.

Each bump, each kick, and each thrust of his hips caused Kris’s dress to flap. Its wind kicked up the dust. The particles snowed around them, and it tickled their noses, but due to the shawl she wore, the dust smelled like roses. 

The music of the ball was but a whisper compared to the songs that they were making. Subconsciously though they still kissed in the rhythm of the band. They twirled like they practice and pulled back to breathe down into each other's throats. The smell of the flowers was as intoxicating as Alm’s wine.

“Don’t ever leave me.” Marth was able to spill from his dripping lip. “I don’t know what I’d do without you”.

“I’ll stay so long as you allow me.” Kris whistled when she was sucking in a breath.

Marth’s eyes eased, and were shifting rapidly from being in his blissful drunkenness. Her response rubbed his ears down and dripped down into his soul. _“Caeda said just ‘yes’ to that question, and that’s why she acted the way she did…”_ Marth thought, but then looked down at the ground. _“Maybe…Maybe not. I’ll never know. I need to live with that if I’m able to move on.”_

Seeing Marth’s mood shift Kris had to pull herself back. Huffing, she looked down at his sword hand. It wasn’t shaking. She looked back up at her lover who was thinking over her exact words. “….Kitty?” She asked innocently.

Marth turned his head to her hearing his name called. After looking into her eyes and felt the pumping in his hurting heart - He smiled at her wide. “I like that name more than Master, could you keep using that instead?”

There was a twinkle in her eye as she gasped in glee. “I can call you my kitty?”

Marth nodded his head with his smile naturally growing back. Kris’s heart was pounding as all the blood was going right into her smile and mighty arms. She pulled Marth close and attempted to crush him in a hug that was powered by pure joy. Marth’s face burned as much as the fires inside his heart as he held her back with equal force.

“I love you so much” Marth said as he used her shawl as a pillow.

“I love you more, kitty.” His button wiggled in place as she settled herself more in their loving grasp.

Marth bucked his hips right as she felt comfortable. His poor Button flinched in shock. The dust around them blew away like a tsunami wave. The high-pitched moan she made cause her heart go aflutter like the dust that floated around them. She pulled back, and covered her gasping, and was breaking her composure.

Marth sat up as he let the rolled-up cape slide behind him as he kept his spacing equal while Kris was withdrawing. Within the dim light of this dusty cove, the only thing that guided Marth to her face was her little sounds and the jittering of her long earrings. Their nose tips met and he slid down to kiss her - but then only met her fingers. She could hear him smiling. She felt her hand seized by his sword hand and was bent back with just the two of his fingers. The scales shifted to an equilibrium that was weighing steadily more upon her.

“I thought I was your naughty kitty”. He sang to her like a woodwind.

“Marth…“ She only had the strength to lightly tug her vocal cords. She felt the weakness in her body and her heart was shuttering in fear. Marth’s heart pounded like a drum, her timidness is what he desired to hear.

“I love you too.” Marth hopelessly sighed as his sword hand released her hand and stroked the side of her face and exposed shoulder. The slight clawing he did with his nails made her shiver out a moan. Her thighs pressed down on the sides of his hips. This time, he could appreciate the fat in her performance.

He closed the gap, locking their faces together, forcing his tongue inside of her. He stared through her veil of regal serenity and got her to moan. The falling dust started to settle around them. Marth veered over her body. Like a broken metronome it swung to her side, yet stayed there. The imbalance made the strength in her legs start to disintegrate. She was falling back - the dance in their mouth made her feel weightless. To keep her flower bounded hair from touching the cobweb-covered wall, Marth caught her heavy head with his swift left hand. He balanced her on only his fingertips as their loving training session made her salivate.

 _“I…did forget…my face practice these past two days…”_ Kris tried to rationalize to herself as she let her naughty kitty make a mess of her.

Yet in her thought, she was subconsciously pushing on his chest with both her hands to give her space to think. Marth could tell from how much he’s held her. They slept together, peacefully, and she was not even attempting to act the same. It was that and how her breathing was now off the rhythm of the symphony. With only a broken metronome, she couldn’t keep her tempo.

 _“Why is my skull rattling? I hate it…”_ she thought to herself as her legs started to shake against Marth’s body. Beyond the slick rubbing, she felt brushing down her mouth, the tingling that’d normally take over was being stopped right as the rush was attempting to overpower her ears. The chatter of the people, the sounds of the perceptions, the rattling of her jewelry. She’s only ever kissed in a silent classroom or bedroom. Though alone, she felt all these vibrations were looking at her.

Marth attempted to push on to see if she could overcome her anxiety. But the breathing through her nostrils started to rattle like maracas.Marth broke their dance, and she exhaled her hot steam across his whole face. The smell of the airborne booze, perfume, and her, poisoned him like secondhand smoke. There was nothing more he wanted to just to ignore the signs of her discomfort and kiss her more. But he fought the rush, and made his body instead lunge at her neck. She cooed out a violin’s sweet note as her violin bow plucked her black choker with his teeth. Marth’s head would trail down with a sigh as he dragged her neckless with him. He tugged at it to then let the choker snap at her neck. He’d rest his lips where her neck met with the rest of the body. The temperature of their little hidden cove was mild, but due to the dust and stray magical lights, Kris could see her own breath dance as if it was snowing.

As they sat with his Button now relaxing more on top of Marth, the two were in a dib as the symphony cued them both to do. Yet, she still wasn’t fully committing.

“Do you still want this?” Marth asked apprehensively. His courage was renewed with vigor when he heard the rattling of her earrings respond with a ‘yes’.

“Thank you for removing that stupid corset. I’m sure I would have just fainted right then and here”. She huffed at the dust that flew around her.

Smiling at her quip, he bit her choker neckless again to realign the little mess that he made. Her vocal cords let out whimpers and moans as she felt Marth use his tongue and teeth to adjust her black floral pattern capo.

He pulled her from their dip and their scales now were perfectly balanced. He was humbled to see her face not look away, yet see her bashfulness swelling like the songs that played beyond this wall.

“Is everything well, my love?” He smiled taking drawn breaths as the orchestra were shifting players for the next song. She shook her head while her hands rested gently on his chest. Feeling her fingers spread out underneath his jacket and over his dull cyan pillow vest made the corner of his smile spread out at the same tone. “What’s wrong then? It’s unlikely anyone would find us here.”

His Button felt his stutter like a snare appearing in a steady drumbeat. She nodded her head to him with her jewels tugging at her ears. “I know, and I feel safe here. But it feels like everyone is still seeing us. I can’t figure out why”.

Marth reached to her hands and held each gently. Kris slowly rose and fell as Marth’s breathing kept up with her solo. “Is it because you’re thinking how I’d want to kiss you when I dip you out in the dance floor?”

Her fingers curled up as her face was fully red. “That thought never crossed my mind. Do you truly want to do that?” She asked.

Marth nodded his head to her slowly. The only thing he could feel were his relaxed open-mouth smile, his hands, and his warm cheeks. It wasn’t that the rest of his body was numb - it was simply ‘gone’. The only body heat he was registering was any that Kris was expressing. “I dreamt of it every day since we have been together practicing. But you know I won’t do that to you if you don’t feel comfortable.”

It was then she finally looked away in thought while the last musician arrived at their chair to play their next set. “I want to give you that - my heart yearns for us to finally go public.” She whispered.

“Let me handle that. Just close your eyes briefly every time we dip in our sets if you’re scared. Do you think you can do that?” Marth asked never once dropping his smile.

She nodded. “That shouldn’t be hard at all.”

“Do you think you’re calm about us kissing now?” He had to ask again.

Kris shook her head as she was rubbing Marth’s chest. His heart pounded as he let his button paw at him to ease themselves. The two lovers were simply breathing on one another. The musicians started to play in the background. The performers sucked in their air and blew into their woodwinds that tickled her ear. The percussion’s vibrations stroked every inch of her skin. The strings sliding notes pulled the chills up her spine at the speed of a zipper. Her left shoulder shuttered as she swiftly hugged herself. She looked away with her earrings flicking her jaw like two banging symbols.

“The sound!” She gasped in a resting beat. The music passed her by, but then the voices that chattered around her started to molest her. “The sounds are like hands that are rubbing down every part of my body.”

Marth stroked her face and was trying to calm her down, which slowly and surely she did. “That makes sense,” Marth spoke hushed enough to overpower the other sounds that were trying to raping her. “We only kissed in quiet places before or out of view for a few seconds. Are you sure it’s the noise that is bothering you?”

Kris nodded her head yes as she shamefully looked away from her lover’s face. She tried to distract herself by staring at the dust and Marth’s well-adorned suit. “None of my training prepared me for this. What should we do? I want to at least give you a chance to have that moment if Naga allows it. I hate that I’m hesitating.”

“Do you speak from the heart and not just to please me?” Marth had to clarify.

“Yes. I love it when you act freely like a naughty kit-k..k-“ She was stuttering on her breath.

Marth had to test to make sure that her said weakness wasn’t false. He was standing firm that she was truthful, yet still, he lived in an ounce of fear with her. Marth leaned up to her as the orchestra’s song was starting to swell. When there was a resting note and a pause in the chatter - Kris heard only one thing.

“ _Kitty?”_ Marth asked as he whispered into her ear.

Kris’s claws dug into Marth’s chest as she ejected all the air in her lungs in a singing moan. Her thighs, once tight on him, went limp. Her eyes fluttered close as she fell to the left of him. Marth caught his fainting Kris with his extended left hand. Marth pressed on her thigh with his right to still keep her in his lap. She was laying in his arm. She shifted her breast to rest on the inside of his elbow and snuggled her hand into Marth’s palm. The tingling she felt shook her to her very core.

Marth looked down at her and was amazed at his own accomplishment. He made her physically weak just by the power of his word. “I didn’t know between the two of us, you’d be the most sensitive.” Marth confessed in a more casual hushed tone to not push her excitement too much.

He slowly lifted her up so she’d sit back on his lap. Her eyes were still blank, hazy, and left unfocused due to her climax. Yet still, despite her lack of voice, she tilted her head in confusion to continue the conversation.

Marth continued; “Caeda was better at ‘this part’ than me. It’s a little jarring sometimes to see how easily you just… It’s a little hard to describe… Perhaps it’s just how swiftly you _submit?_ Even then, that doesn’t feel like the right word.”

Kris took in large gulps of air and exhaled them slowly like one would to play a trombone. She rattled her body, her strength was returning, yet still depended on the arm she was holding her head in.

Her silence and longing stare was making Marth grow nervous, but he forced himself to continue. “I …I just thought you’d be the one in this who’d… who’d be stronger. There’s a-”

He broke his eye contact as he looked at the ruffles of her mostly clean dress. A drop of worry was caressing his face. “It’s a little hard to support you at times when I still view myself as so weak.”

He then saw Caeda’s limp arms grow back their strength. Caeda then lifted her arms to rubbed his chest down so she could comfort him. Marth stuttered in his breath, eyes widen, heart racing. He looked up, and still saw he had Kris melting on his left arm inside the dusty dark walls of the ball.

Kris’s body was weak, and she could only stare at him. Her breathing through her slightly agape mouth was shaken and uneven. He held her hand with his free sword hand and inspected her nails. Within the darkness, he confirmed this was Kris and not her. Caeda would have never paint her nails so gaudily. 

“You felt like her there.” Marth said as he rubbed the hand he was holding.

Kris sucked in her breath as her eyes grew more focused with worry. “Is that bad?”

He paused. Kris heard nothing but his breathing. He then kissed her hand. “No. It was like waking up with your eyes closed and your body thinks you’re in an old location. It’d happen sometimes when you woke up in my arms. I still miss her, Kris.”

Marth’s heart was beating, and that was the only vibration Kris could feel. Marth pulled her hand away from his lips with his sword hand was steadily swaying with his fingertips flinching. He looked up at her with a smile. “But I still love you.”

Her hand that was being rocked by his traumatized right hand softly wrapped around it to not startle him. She tried to steady the rocking ship, but just ended up going for the ride till he calmed down himself. “You’re not saying that just for me?” Kris asked.

“No” he said. They felt isolated finally in their own void.

“My little kitty…” The sound of her voice was of that of a coin dropping; something that should be small, yet always was ear-catching. Kris then leaned in and kissed him to the prince’s surprise. A soft kiss, just like their first. Marth remained petrified as Kris looked back and was awaiting her next word.

“Kiss me till I’m not scared of the sounds anymore, Kitty.” She nuzzled into his left hand that was locked stiff into place and gave him the coyest grin he’s seen from her yet. She felt her saddle kickback at her hip. Her body cocked to accommodate him while her smile grew more. Now both his hands were just shaking as he was staring at her - his face fully red.

Marth was known for many feats of strength, yet this was the first one that made him recognize how strong he truly was. _“How have I not dropped her yet?”_ Drawing in his breath to give him some gusto he leaned in to kiss her. Kris leaned a little back. He halted for he thought he did something wrong. She was still smiling at him.

“Come on,” She said playfully as she was leaning back. Her hips rocked on her saddle as she was encouraged him to ‘walk’ like he was a horse. “Don’t you want it?”

His heart sank to his gut, which he had to fish out when he sucked in his breath again. “Don’t do that,” Marth announced. “It’s hard to focus on what not to do when you do that.”

Kris was leaning so far into his left arm. The occasional rocking she did on his lower body was not helping his train of thought. He tried to pull her in closer, but then she roll her head to show him her jawline.

“And what are those dirty things you want to do to me, _Kitty? Can you show me?”_ Kris sighed with the slyest of smiles. She was subtly moving on him like she was riding a horse to encourage him on. Marth felt her heart pounding in the arm she was laying in. Marth had the physical evidence that this wasn’t a hoax. Every individual hair stood on his body. He only heard his thundering heartbeat and the sound of someone throwing up.

The two of them blinked at each other. The unmistakable smell of acid and moldy grapes punched them in the face. It was mixed with bread, fish, and other things being served on the servants' plates. There was a pattering of projectile vomiting plopping and raining down the outside wall of the ballroom’s east wing they were hiding in. A poor patron was puking because they most likely drank too much rich wine.

“That’s like, _a whole meal._ That shot out of him in under 3 seconds!” Kris said while the lovers look in the direction of the sound. She was fully impressed.

The poor patron was crying, snorting out snot. Another man, laughing, was holding him while they were sitting on the floor. Marth gawked at her, choking on his own breath - while the stranger was choking on so much more. “You don’t need to say that thought out loud. What’s wrong with you, _woman_? That poor man’s sick!” Marth was utterly gobsmacked by her blatant indifference to an innocent person’s suffering.

She pumped in her fists as she sat upright in his lap. “But his gag reflex is saving him! Puking’s a good sound!”

Marth jerked his head back more appalled by her words than the sound of shellfish sliding down the walls and the man’s weeping woes. “To like the sound of that pain? Is that something your grandfather taught you, too?”

Kris the stupid idiot who couldn’t read context nodded her head. “Yeah! How’d you know?”

Marth was very close to shoving her off of him, but since he was a nicer man, he settled on just putting back on his mask. “No wonder why you liked it when I puked on you.”

It turns out he didn’t need to physically shove her to make her feel just as pushed back. “ What? No, that was disgusting!”

“You _stayed_ there though.” He snarked back with a frown. His eyes were now unreadable.

Kris jabbed her finger into the middle of his chest. “I stayed there _for you.”_

Marth ripped her hand away. After a struggle, Kris tossed her hand away from the clash. “I heard what came out of your mouth.” Marth growled.“And _don’t_ you hit me again.”

“I _didn’t_ hit you.” She echoed the same growl back at him. “A-and I didn’t like it-.”

“Don’t you lie to me either.” His voice still harsh and jabbed low. His neutrality, only exacerbated by his mask, made Kris shake where she sat. She was red in the face. He was staring her down. The band still played. Then the man beyond the wall puked once again.

“Ew.” Kris said as she lifted up her arms from Marth. “Ew. Ew ew. Ew.” Kris repeated as she put back on her mask and put the fan in her mouth. “Ew.” She said one last time as she crawled away from Marth and went to the direction of their second entry plan. “I didn’t like it.”

Marth was putting back on his cape and was distracted by how Kris was moving away from him. “Next time we’re doing it I’m dunking a pail of water on you.”

“I don’t want that.” She snarled back.

“You do.” He said assertively.

She whimpered at the thought of those said events happening. “I heard that one too.” He retorted, refusing to look at her.

“ _Fine!”_ she turned back to Marth, who was still not looking at her. “I want it. Does that make you happy?”

“This isn’t a competition. I just want your honesty.” Marth had most of his attention to the wall, to make sure that the person who was sick was going to turn out alright. The gears in Kris’s head started to turn and she realized why Marth got offended. She looked away gulping her pride, and made her way back to him.

“…Marth I was honest when I said him puking was a good sound to hear. I ate something once when I was little and got really sick, then my grandfather shoved charcoal in my mouth. I felt better near instantly.” She explained more calmly.

Marth turned his head to Kris to hear her out more. She continued. “It’s a basic first aid thing that I learn. Sure it’s gross, but it’s better to hear than choking or making no sound at all. Father Wrys also lets children cry when they scratch themselves instead of instantly healing them from their minor scratches under his care. Would you get mad at him? I know Elice does that same practice from what I saw when I was in her classroom. I’m sorry that I made you think I didn’t care.”

Marth stayed silent to weigh her words before he nodded in agreement. “Thank you for apologizing”. He said dryly. He stood up by himself and threw his cape over his shoulder.

“Come on, maybe we should pace before we try the other entrance,” Kris asked as she tilted her head at him.

He looked at her frown, and couldn’t read her eyes due to her mask. He attempted to put on a smile. “We can pace once we’re in the main hall. Let’s head to the other little entrance. We’ll get you in there, so don’t worry about me.”

“Oh you mean that?” within the small crevice in the wall she danced in place smiling. “I-I-I mean the pacing, in the hall. We can do that?”

It was a little easier for Marth to hold the false smile “Yes.”

Kris held his hand and tugged him along. “Come on then, we’re burning moonlight!”

Marth nodded his head to her, and as they walked, he made sure he didn’t let go of her.

\- - - - - -

Right outside the wall, back when the wannabe cat-burglars were being _very naughty kitties_ ; the snake was shaking, huffing, giggling, snorting. Jeorge’s slipping sanity of reality was slow-coming but eventually even the blind could see him breaking at the seams. The Bull looked down at Jeorge who was repressing a laughing fit.

“You alright there, Snakeboots?” Cain asked Jeorge.

Jeorge’s foresight was playing everything that was happening between Kris and Marth in his head from between the walls. His abilities only worked when the targets of focus were in the area around him. Said area was shrunken due to his intoxication. So these two quite literally dropped from the sky and did all those things in the walls right beside Jeorge from his perspective. They were so wildly out of character from the mental profiles he had on the both of them - yet entirely _in character_ at the same time. His grip on reality was fully slipping.

Cain blankly stared at Jeorge, and then turned his head to Gordin who was stuffing his face still. “Hey Cluckmaster, is this normal for your master to do?”

Jeorge put his wine glass on the table. While holding himself and still snickering, Jeorge the Snake took staggered steps to Gordin the Chicken. Gordin swallowed his fist full of food and clucked at Cain. “First off, I told you not to call me that!”

“Ah, sorry little man.” Cain smiled while he nodded apologetically.

Jeorge finally made it to Gordin and rested his full weight on his small apprentice. As Jeorge was shaking in glee, Gordin hugged their tall master and bocked back at Cain. “I told you not to call me that either! This is why I left the knights!” Gordin then looked up at Jeorge worryingly as he rubbed the snake’s back. “Are you okay, Master Jeorge?”

Jeorge then burst out into laughter. It was a crackle and not boisterous, but the fact that he was laughing took everyone that knew the snake off guard. The tall snake fell to his knees as he shoved his face into Gordin’s chest. Then Jeorge fell over to the floor. He stayed there in the fetal position while laughing his drunk red face off.

Gordin took a step back scared stiff and turning as pale as his white-feathered mask. His master was breaking character right at his very feet. Cain lowered his guard stance just to see what the devil’s twisted plan was going on. Draug was wide-eyed through his bear mask just shocked to hear that Jeorge could even _feel joy_ let alone _express it_. Alm the Lion however simply saw a friend in need. The young king crawled on all fours underneath the table and wrapped an arm around Jeorge’s gut.

“Hold on. I got you, buddy.” Alm said as he held onto the wheezing Jeorge. Jeorge’s ponytail dragged behind him as Alm pulled him underneath the table. Alm the Lion sat on the wall and rocked Jeorge like a baby. “It’s alright, Jeorge, just let it all out. It’s almost out of you, buddy!!” Alm said, smiling ear-to-ear while rubbing this snake’s back. Jeorge curled up his legs on the Saint-King as he couldn’t stop laughing.

Due to the style Alm was comforting the sickly sniper in, it triggered a vulgar infant reaction inside of them. Jeorge would continue to laugh till he puked on the back of Alm’s jacket like the drunk hobo he was. Rather than push back, the King Alm started to laugh too. Both the snakes' hissing wheezes and the king lion’s roaring laughter echoed everywhere. They had no reason to start crying, but they did anyway. The fermented grapes of Alm’s hometown’s wine erased the reasons why they started to laugh, choke, and weep. All they could remember that they were two bros holding each other - needing each other. Nothing else mattered.

“I love you!!” Jeorge shrilled as the wine made him feel all fuzzy like he was climaxing. The scream raddled his gut as he hagged out another human hairball.

The young king just rocked this tall drunken man who’s now shriveling up in his lap. Alm viewed Jeorge now as if he was just another one of his childhood friends from his little village. “I love you, too! Don’t tell her I said that! But I love you too, man!” Alm shouted from in-between his crying gasp of drunken misguided ecstasy.

“Don’t let go of me.” Jeorge hurled out his words. “I don’t want to be left alone.” He sniffled. “Hardly anyone trusts the things I tell them! No one would believe what I just saw! They all view me as some monster!”

“I won’t leave you, buddy!” Shouted the young lion to their drunk long snake that slung over his shoulder. “I never left anyone behind on the field. Not back then, not now! I trust you with my life!” Alm the Lion roared to the heavens. Alm was merry and gay as a true drunk should be. “What did you see?! You can tell me!” Alm said smiling as wide as he could.

Jeorge’s wine tainted his thoughts. Like how a single drop of raw toxic alcohol aids with mixing the color pigment of oil paint, his intoxication painted an abstract picture of Marth and his Button in his mind. He no longer trusted his foresight tonight for how drunk he was but still tried to describe what he just saw; “I saw two cats! There were cats in the walls! There were cats in the walls! Two cats!! In the walls!! There were two cats!! They were scaling inside the wall! One - one never did it before while the other climbed the walls for fun. They sat together on the wood no - floor? They fell to the floor! They're not here now - but their heads! Their heads! They were doing that boop thing together! I think they were kissing?!??”

Alms booze-filled heart pounded for his love for the feline companions and their cute little toe beans. “WERE THEY IN LOVE!?”

“YES, AND IT WAS THE CUTEST THING I EVER SAW! I’M SO ENVIOUS OF THEM!” Jeorge was now sobbing more than he was puking. He was moved by the kind king’s joy - at least it was progress.

Alm was bouncing while he held his sickly foreseeing snake. “AWW!! I LOVE CATS!! THIS PLACE IS THE BEST!” His drunk mind was now filled with the little happy memories of every time he stop to play with a local cat while he saved his country from tyranny that paralleled Marth’s struggles during Marth’s brief one year of peace. “EVERY TIME I SEE A CAT I THINK ABOUT MY CUTE WIFE!” The young lion roared in blissful memory of his queen.

“I’LL POINT OUT EVERY CAT MY FORESIGHT SEES FOR YOU THEN!” Jeorge wept to the boy king.

“I’D LOVE THAT! I MISS HER SO MUCH!!” Alm was crying from how much he was in love with his powerful, daring, magical, and beautiful lioness. In one grand and repulsive action, the drunk King Alm now made a second lifelong friend tonight. Tis was truly a magical masquerade.

Gordin, scared out of his mind, ran for a servant for help in cleaning this mess up like the headless chicken that he was. Cain held the sides of his head with his shaking fingertips burrowing into his own hair. He was letting someone puke on a foreign king underneath his watch and he was powerless to stop this drunken bromance from blossoming. _“If Jagen was still on his death bed and found out about this, he’d get up and take me down with him! None of my training prepared me for this!”_ The bull trembled in fear of their old master’s memory.

Draug stared at them, gawking, then looked at Alm’s wine bottle he had in his hand. He rattled the last remains in it. “ _Damn!_ Is there any more of this stuff? I want what they're having!” Draug the Bear looked for anything that remained, then saw Jeorge’s wine glass and helped himself to it.


	14. Nauseating War Stories

Kris and Marth managed to exit from the hidden passageway from one of its forked escape routes. They pushed on a podium that had a statue of an armored soldier on it, and Marth pushed the place for her. They were in the middle of blue hallways that surrounded the orange-lit ball. This empty hall only had decorative bodysuits of armor lining them. Beyond that decoration, they were all alone. Kris stayed still holding a fist to her chest while Marth was kneeling around her, fanning out the dust that was on her dress. Dust fluttered around them as he worked.

Kris' heart pounded seeing him kneel next to her, only having the back of his head to read any of his neutral body tells. The tendrils of dread coiled around her heart, making each beat of it hurt her. Her breathing started to grow choppy. Once more, she was blessed now that the tight corset was gone. To steady herself, she opened her fan to cover her mouth and looked away from Marth. There was something about how he was kneeling that was jogging some sort of memory. The lover's side attempted to solve this mystery by investigating her feelings about what just happened.

 _“I made him think I didn’t care for an innocent person?”_ Kris thought to herself as she rolled her knuckles against her cleavage. _“Am I really fit for this role? Can I replace Caeda?”_ Her mind continued to spiral, but her knightly side caught her damsel just as it sought to save Marth. _“_ _I am._ _I just, maybe not at this hour.I need to see everything through to the end…”_

Her head started to sag down with her chin hitting her chest. Kris’s mind was being weighed down by memories. Her eyes could only see the sunny hue of her fiery fan. Behind her was the ball, and the magical lights made the golden decorations of her fan shimmer. They gleamed just like blades and daggers - like wyvern’s horns and even sharper boomerang hatchets. The yellow tint of the fan’s fabric reminded her of the sands they had to cross during their travels before they had to scale any mountains.

The heat baked the air - she was sweating now just like in her past. The sand dug into her heels - just the same as it did in her boots back then. The sand still left scars on her soles, as too did this pain leave its own scar on her soul. The sun was high at noon. The cloudless sky was a bleached and blinding blue.

Ever since Caeda passed, Marth pushed himself further in every aspect, even when they marched. Regardless of the terrain - the breathless heavens, to dried up seas such as the one they were marching in now; Caeda’s death spurred Marth on. The only person who could keep up was his Royal Guard. Marth and Kris once more trailed too far ahead of the army. They were alone, just like in the now.

Standing in the middle of the desert, winged riders circled them in the sky. Even the most worldly of travelers would frequently mistake them for spinning vultures in a dry stage such as this. A shame many didn’t see their bat-like wings until it was too late.

Smaller dragons, wyverns, were tamed, bred, and trained to be used by humans for mundane use and to fight. Unlike the pegasus knights who were swifter than a normal horse-mounted knight, the wyvern’s bones were solid. They traded a bit of speed for overall bulk, veracity, and ferocity. Royalty and commoners used and lived with wyverns like pets, but the stereotype of these magnificent creatures was that they were used exclusively by sand-dwelling pillagers.

Marth and Kris were standing at the base at one of the desert’s dunes and were attempting to march on. Kris used a long spear as a walking stick. She’d stab it deep into the sandhills and use it as leverage to scale the coarse crumbling walls. Marth was always right behind her to help her push up the mound. The winds blowing made the sand rush to their eyes - just as the dust was dancing around Kris right now.

As they were about to reach the apex, four black shadows scurried past them. The contrast between the golden sands was unmistakable. The black spots boxed the Prince and the Royal Guard into a quadrangle. Both Kris and Marth looked up, and saw the beasts orbiting them. Kris thought it was a quad of birds as she pulled herself to stand on top of the hill. Marth thought the same, but then stopped right before the summit. His sharp hearing heard a leather glove tightening its grip on a flying hatchet from high above.

“ **Block!** ” Marth ordered Kris. His scream made her stop from turning to face him.

Kris did as ordered even though she saw nothing in front of her. Down from the heavens rain a single silver spinning raindrop. A blessed hatchet curved in the air. With the precision of a dragonfly; it soared down, pivoted, and flung itself to Kris as soon as she held up her spear. The hatchet chopped the twig, and sliced vertically into her breastplate.

Its edge was cutting through the metal - penetrated her skin - it was about to destroy her sternum. Marth grasped for her belt. He yanked her to him - her own belt punched her in the gut. The enchanted ax spun to the sky. The ax tried to uppercut her jaw, but its edge could only kiss her sweat-drenched bangs.

The boomerang hatchet flew back up to the raiders high above, with another wyvern swooping down. Their spear was drawn. Marth hugged Kris. Entangled like the vines of a tumbleweed, they rolled down the sand dune they spent a half an hour climbing. The raider scraped the sand, just missing the Prince and Kris with their spear.

Kris’s mouth was wide open due to the corset belt yanking at her belly. Her gut and lungs filled with the yellow waters Marth and Kris were swimming in. Another raider of the four swooped down behind the duo. The scum went to intersect them at the base of the hill they were tumbling down. Her vision was blind by the sand. She did not recall exactly how she survived.

She remembers being flung while in that tumble - her knightly pride never made her forget that she lost her grip on her Prince. The side of her body slammed into the burning ground, and the sandpaper scrubbed every part of her skin. The sickening experience made stomach acid and bullet-like sand grains to fling out of her nose and mouth.

More rain fell on her, fresh blood. A noise compressed her down - a wyvern’s deathly howl. Kris went to push her battered hands into the coal-hot sandy ground. Desperately she kept fighting the forces that were making her bow. A physical mass now made her submit - the headless body of a wyvern crashed on top of her, as well as the rider - who was also sliced in half. The skid of the prince’s boots behind her and his blood-soaked gleaming sword she saw over her shoulder was the only thing that kept her calm.

Marth’s eyes were to the heavens. The shadows danced around him. Kris was pinned underneath the wyvern’s body, and shield underneath its still twitching wing. Marth shouted as he danced in place, not to her, but to his allies who were not too far away. She went to crawl out to protect Marth. Yet as he swayed anticipating the next raider to attempt to best him, Marth was still watching her to make sure she was okay. To keep her safe, Marth’s left palm signaled to her. He made a silent order to make her stay. Every impulse told her not to - but her love for him made Kris obey.

The stinging pain from the cut on her chest were just red droplets compared to the sea of regret that she was being swallowed in. Her leg was pinned by the corpse that was on top of her. The compression making her legs sizzle on the ground like the useless pound of meat that she was. From the safety of underneath the attackers wide wing all she could do was watch Marth from the shadows as he danced with the raiders.

The part of the dunes they were in was shaped as a bowl, and they were at the bottom of it. Kris couldn’t even see the skyline, only Marth and the blinding yellow sand walls of said bowl. He was swift with his feet and weaved about like the salsa Kris and him once tried as the winged lizards flew by. Yet just like that dance, it was no waltz. The foreign dance was yet perfected - and Marth made many missteps. Axes clashed into Marth’s sword, knocking the man off balance. A tossed javelin kissed the entire length of his leg. The rip in the left leg of his pants was accompanied by a slash of red across the yellow sands. The crackling raiders forced Prince Marth to kneel.

The scum did aerial loops to taunt the bleeding prince - she could tell by how the shadows twirled. Marth was now kneeling in front of Kris, just like when he was cleaning her dress. Marth’s eyes were to the sky, but he still had Kris in his sights. He held his left hand to her to keep silently guiding her, just like when they danced. Marth was still ordering Kris to keep hidden underneath the dead wyvern - and Kris obeyed. She refused to disobey her lord, even if the order was to make her continue to watch him suffer because of her incompetence.

The raiders grew tired playing with their food, grew arrogant, or perhaps got too impatient. Kris will never know. Two of them dove for Marth at different speeds, that’s all she could tell from their blurred shadows. And while Marth jumped to the side to dodge one of them, the other landed on target.

The wyvern raider was leaning to the side of the mount with their ax held down. They were going for a scooping motion, like using a net to catch a fish while rowing in a river. The attacker let the inertia of their wyvern to do all the work. The raider just needed to keep his arm straight. However, Marth was a fish that was too big for the scum’s net.

The ax clashed with Marth’s breastplate, denting it. Marth’s sword hand, with sword in hand, thrusted into the wyvern’s earflap. Marth missed the brain, but the sword was through its skull. Marth used the handle to push himself up to keep the ax from penetrating his armor. Marth grabbed the wrist of the ax’s hand. Marth clung onto the raider and the wyvern as they soared out of Kris’s limited view and into the sky. Kris was pulling out her leg from underneath the beast. Kris was now bent down underneath in the cool blue shade provided by the dead wing and was overlooking the orange light battlefield for her missing prince.

“ **Jeorge!** ” Marth boomed once more. All Kris could see were two black spots dancing around the surface of the bow. What followed the silence was the howling of two pained wyverns. The expert sniper Jeorge shot two dragons with a single arrow - a typical shot he’d make.

The wyverns plummeted to the ground, along with Marth. He fell right back in view of Kris as he slid down the bowl lip of the sand hill Kris was trapped in. Both of Marth’s eyes were fixated on Kris as he got to his feet and ran over to her. The wyvern he stabbed before had his only sword. Kris’s heart pounded in her chest. There were three dead, but Kris remembered one still lived.

The fourth assailant was flying low to the ground, hiding in the sand hills to avoid Jeorge’s long reaching arrows. Marth couldn’t hear the attacker’s flight path because of all the sand that was in his ears. Marth ran over to Kris to get her out from underneath the wyvern, she was still given no order to move.

“ **Behind you!** ” Jeorge shouted from beyond the sand bowl’s walls Marth and Kris were in.

Marth looked to the left at the direction from where Jeorge’s voice came from. The pillager rider swooped over from the right. The wyvern seemed double the normal size from Kris’s angle. Marth spun on his heel to face the beast. No order was given still. Kris disobeyed Marth's order for the first time in her life. Kris sprang like a frog from underneath the corpse’s wing to tackle Marth out of the way of the charging fourth attacker. Marth’s body then hit metal and stone, and not sand like in her Night Terror.

Kris’s eyes shot open. She was on top of Marth just like in her memory, but she was staring down the cold dark castle halls. The glow of the ball still shined behind her. The temperature of Altea Castle was freezing compared to the hot desert sands they marched across before. The cold shock made Kris gasp, as if she fell into ice waters. Even though the jolt through her system made her feel like she was alive in the present, it still didn’t give her enough strength to move her frail body.

Kris just tackled Marth to the wall. They crashed into one of the metal suit decorations that remained standing somehow. Kris was sprawled out on the floor, with her head in Marth’s gut. She did all this because she was reliving a war’s memory.

That’s when her sword hand started to rattle. She clenched her fist over her chest, right where the hatchet would have killed her if it weren’t for Marth saving her. Kris went to push off from the ground, and off of Marth. When there was a gap between both of their bodies, she saw Marth’s hands reach out to her, and cup her from underneath her armpits. He scooted himself along the floor and pulled Kris into his lap. He paused to see if she could move by herself, even though Kris was refusing to look at him.

The two stayed frozen like that for a spell. Eventually, the enchantment wore off as she lifted her left hand that was still shaking.

“Hold me…” Kris said timidly. She worked up the courage and glanced at Marth’s face when she asked that request. She saw his shocked expression turned into one that mostly held tenderness.

Slowly he pulled his wife-to-be into his lap, and cradled her like the mother Kris never had. Kris only had enough strength in her body to twist herself at the shoulders to turn into Marth’s chest and breath heavily into it. Now in the hug, Marth’s expression held back no punches as it showed the full extent of his sorrow.

“Is this okay?” Marth whispered as he pulled the both of them closer to the hallway’s wall.

“Yes.” Kris managed to gasp. Her normal talking volume was softer than his whisper for now.

“Are you okay?” Marth asked, as he turned his head to hers. He used his hair and head to shield her from the harsh light that was the ballroom’s glow.

“I am okay.” She was able to huff out.

“You _are_ okay.” Marth said, attempting to echo her frail thought.

“I _am_ okay.” Her empty mind was catching Marth’s reverb.

Marth would continue to rock her and played the echoing game till she was able to breathe normally. The game would be harder to keep up at parts, for her mind was still diving back into memories. It was a tedious process. Marth did not stop repeating these little actions however, for nothing. They both knew exactly what happened, and used what limited tools they forged together to try to dig themselves through. He didn’t stop not just because they were lovers - but as a friend simply return the favor. Kris had to do this for him before.

Kris eventually was resting in his arms. Her eyes closed like she was asleep. Pain was the only expression that was on Marth’s face. Not during any of this did he feel the strength return into her body. Still feeling like this was his fault. He went to stand while carrying Kris bride’s maid style.

“Let’s head back to our room”. Marth whispered mournfully.

Kris gave a grunt of disapproval. Marth’s head turned to her face with attentiveness, then sat back down like a good little kitty. Kris rolled her drowsy body in his arms, attempting to sit up more. With Marth helping her, she kept her eyes closed still just to take in all her senses. The sand was gone from her mouth, her eyes were no longer watery, she felt warmed up by Marth’s body heat. She smelled the roses from her shawl. Only one wasn’t working - her hearing. With her left dominant hand she reached up and flicked her long earring. The rattling was like flipping on a switch, and she could finally hear the orchestra that echoed down the nearby hall. A chill went down her body as she impulsively smiled. She rested her heavy head on Marth’s chest, and snuggled into her favorite pillow. Only the ornament armored men watched them.

“The orchestra sounds lovely, doesn’t it?” She whispered into his chest. She was smiling as wide as she could.

Marth’s grip relaxed but still rocked her. “And they’ll be playing for us soon, dear - when you’re ready. Do you still want to go?”

Kris nodded her head. “I just need a moment…” She sucked in a huge amount of air from her nostrils and exhaled slowly through her mouth. She was trying to ground herself.

Marth recognized the pattern of her behavior. After a bit of peace, he reached up slowly to her earring and held it in his fingers. “I never thought you’d take to wearing such jewels. Did you have these always on you for a special day?” Marth said, attempting to lull her mind with basic chatter.

The comment made the bashful Kris blush. “No I… went shopping when we were apart yesterday and the day before. I wanted to look pretty, but, I’m growing to like them. Do you like them?”

“They look lovely on you.” Marth said with a burning smile.

Kris relaxed on his body more hearing the approval. “Would it be wrong if I wore them more?”

“Why would that be an issue?” Marth asked.

“I don’t want to appear ‘out of touch’. I already don’t have a good track record with that comment I made on that sick man” She said as she had a long stare.

Marth frowned as he let go of her earring and stroked her neck to encourage her to ease her soul. “It’s a delicate art. I won’t let you get blinded - just like how you sought out to protect me just now.”

Kris lifted her head with her eyes widening. She looked back at Marth. Their masks hide their eyes but there was a softness to his smile. There was a flash of happiness shared in her expression, but that soon wilted. She reached up and pulled down her mask.

“I think you need a new Royal Guard, Marth, if we are going to continue things like this…” Kris confessed as she used her butterfly mask to cover her chest.

“You’re the only guard I’ll ever need”. Marth said while not missing a beat.

Kris looked at him, with her mask gone he could see the twinkle in her eyes. She curled up, blushing, and let out a hum. Marth reached up and petted the side of her face, and she happily caved into it. 

Marth continued to whisper to her. “I was, however, thinking of a Royal Guard for _you,_ Kris. I haven’t chosen who yet though.”

Kris’s eyes opened again, her eyes sparkling more. Her old spunk was recovering back - tired - but it was there again.She looked at Marth with a wide smile as she thought about her platoon members. “Could it be Ryan, Katarina, or maybe Roderick?”

Marth’s mask hid the fact that he glanced over to the armored statue they were sitting next to. Marth smile grew. “I’ll look into it and see if any of those three would be a good fit for us.”

She wiggled in glee and put back on her butterfly mask. The joy suddenly vanished from her face as she was then reaching around her body. “Wait, where did I put my fan?”

She patted her whole body, and was about to fully lift up her skirt to show off her whole legs to the statue beside them. Marth stopped her by placing a hand on her hip, and reached right into her cleavage. He plucked the fan out from in-between her breasts.“You put that in there before you tackled me.” Marth whispered.

“Wow! My body remembered how expensive this fan was!!” Kris announced with her excitable speaking tone.

Marth chortled as Kris sat up and flicked her fan open. She stood up by herself as she fanned herself to test if it could still do its primary function. Marth was snickering to himself as he held onto the stiff armored statue to the side of him to help himself up.“How about you run a lap around the castle? I want to make sure you’re truly okay before we walk in there.”

Kris took a few steps back as she shoved her fan back into her cleavage and rolled up her dress. Her smile was as bright as the ball. “Oh, that’s a wonderful idea! I’ll be back in a jiffy!”

She then trotted away, with her heels clapping across the floor. Marth watched her run into the darkness while taking off his mask. He then turned to the armored statue that they pushed out of the way to use that secret passageway. Marth stood on top of the podium the armored knight stood on. Marth wrapped an arm around the armor stand, and reached to the helmet’s visor to lift it up. Marth looked at the man inside. Roderick was inside, timidly looking back at Marth. Roderick was one of the knights that volunteered to play as ‘stage props’ security checks, just so that Roderick could have the next week off. Roderick saw everything, including Kris suddenly freaking out and tackling Marth to the ground.

Marth leaned over to Roderick who he handpicked to be in this empty boring hallway just so that this second entry plan could work. Marth whispered to him. “And you can be the Royal Guard if you don’t say to anyone that you saw us here tonight. Understood?”

The brown haired knight stiffly nodded his head yes. Marth shot him a smug wink before he put back on his own mask, and closed Roderic’s eye visor for him. Marth hopped down the podium right as the clopping of heels was heading back his way. Kris met Marth where the light of the ball bleached into the darkness. She had two pastries in her hands.

“I didn’t do a lap, but I did run off to the kitchen. The head chef let me have two sweet rolls! I got you one!!” Kris beamed as she handed him the large snack.

Marth looked down at his offering. “Why do they both have a bite in it?”

Kris looked down bashfully. “Oh, Well, I remembered you don’t like sweet stuff too much so I bit that part off for you. Sorry I didn’t really think.”

Marth was laughing as he placed his hand on her back, right in the hole she made for him, to guide her along to the venerable west checkpoint. “You can have both of them, Kris. I ate before you came.”

“Oh! I did too! I just, I _really_ needed to taste something other than sand.” She said as she ate the rest of Marth’s sweet roll before eating her own.

“Sand?” Marth questioned with a smile.

“Uh… Nothing.” Kris dismissed nervously as she was licking one of her two hands clean.

~ 

The two turned the corner and were walking down the last hallway that led into the long hall. It was the most Northwest entry point of the grand ballroom. The open river night garden was near this point, so the cold winds blew down the checkpoint. At the halfway point of the hall stayed two knights. One sat at a table on one side of the hall, while the other knight stood along the other wall holding a spear. Both were tired and bored. Yet both perked up from their idling when they heard Kris’ heels clop along the empty hall. Both did not face the guests when they came. They simply stared at one another, stiff as statues they were attempting to emulate.

The cold draft blew past Kris’s exposed body. Not long ago she was suffering a heatstroke, so this brisk breeze felt like Jackfrost was kissing every part of her skin. She shriveled up and nearly dropped her second pastry. To spare her from the cold, Marth offered her his cape. Before they walked down the last hall together, Kris got as close as she could to Marth and held the end of his cape to rap it around her body. She quickly shoved the pastry into her mouth to hold the cape with both hands.

As Marth waited for her to finish eating, he looked over her body. His heart pumped when he had an impulsive thought. _“My cape is covering her back…”_

His impulsiveness continued as he let his hand slide deeper into her dress. Kris’s whole body tensed up and looked at Marth - who stopped when seeing her shocked reaction. She swallowed her sweet cake, then looked away smiling as she took a tip toe step closer. She was not rejecting.

“This is a nice distraction from those ugly thoughts…” Kris whispered as her hands double checked if his cape covered the way he was shamelessly holding her. Her monarch butterfly mask hid her blush.

Marth silently laughed, and couldn’t drop his smile now. Whenever he now looked at Kris he’d be fighting back a grin so long as he got to hold her this way. “Well, _if you insist_. Just stay facing forward. Not a word.” Marth whispered back laughing as well.

Kris nodded her head. Marth put her composure to the test as he _adjusted_ his grip _._ He then marched with her to the checkpoint. She scored a below average mark on his impromptu test due to underestimating the range of his grab.

They walked together to the checkpoint. The knight not standing at the table lowered theirspear. The one at the desk turned their head - quill and logbook at the ready.

“Your invitation?” The knight at the table asked. The Ball’s sparkling magical lights once more masked the sounds of everyone’s voice.

With his unoccupied hand, Marth reached into his dress suit and pulled out his letter. The Knight confiscated the letter and checked who the recipient was. Naturally, they'd flinch seeing Marth was finally here. While the check in desk was then disposing of the letter, Marth reached over to Kris’ mask and tugged it down to show the knight with the spear who she was.

The spear man started to laugh. He held his gut, laughing, nearly dropping his spear. Marth swiftly fixed her mask and stood still, facing forward, and waited. He adjusted his grip again too. Kris scored a better test mark this time.

The spear man raised his lance. “Alright yeah. Go.” The spearman said.

However the desk knight wasn’t having any of that and grabbed the tip of the lance to keep Marth and Kris from moving forward. Marth stayed still. To pass the time and to keep Kris’ mind fully occupied, Marth kept adjusting his grip. Kris’ test scores steadily declined with each test presented to her.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Asked the desk knight.

“You know who this is, let them go.” Said the spear knight.

“Everyone who goes to the ball needs a letter.” The desk knight did not back down.

There was a silence from the spear man, who glanced at marth. Then the empty hall. Then looked at the ball.Finally, the spearman looked at the desk knight.

“You know what Ryan? You know what? This. This right here. _ThiS_. Right here. I can’t take it.”

“What are you talking about?” The fully disguised Sir Ryan asked the spear knight.

The spear knight continued to rant while Marth was still adjusting his grip. “This is stupid! All of this is stupid! I could be _DOING_ something with my life, but no. You crushed the _ONE_ human interaction today. I can’t! I can’t take this any more! I hate it here!”

Sir Ryan was stuttering as the spearman dropped his spear, and marched down the hall Marth and Kris came.

“I QUIT!” Screamed the spearman. Marth kept adjusting his grip. Kris flopped open her fan to cover her face since now she was failing every test.

“What are you doing!?” Roderick shouted and left his post to intercept the spearman.

“BITE ME, RODY! **_BITE ME!_** _”_ Shouted the spear man as he marched away.

“YOU CAN’T JUST LEAVE AFTER EVERYTHING WE’VE BEEN THROUGH TOGETHER!”Roderick cried out at the spearman, running after him.

Ryan was sitting at the desk, petrified. They then looked up at Marth who was standing there still, and still was adjusting his grip. Marth just gave Ryan a bigger smile, then turned his attention to the ball and walked to the ball with a stranger who was apparently his date.

Ryan sat there at the cold table, petrified, unable to think about what he should do. _“I thought all this was to get him someone but now he has someone!?? None of my training prepared me for this!”_

They were walking down the last hall to enter the ball. Their strides were equal in length as always. Kris clopped her fan closed. “I am not flustered enough to _not_ ask what that was about, Marth.”

Marth stopped adjusting his grip since he had a good hold, that, and she didn’t let go of his cape. Marth smiled as he spoke, with his blush adoring his whole face. “It was either that happened, or I had to confront him and ask why Hazel ran after him brandishing your pocket knife.”

Kris giggled while resting her wood fan on her lips. While still giggling she then took that fan to tap on Marth’s shoulder, which made him pull out of her dress. She cocked her hip to him to keep him from fully escaping, so he wrapped his hand around her hip still. She bundled herself up still in his cape. Both were nice and snug.

“He’ll be fine. I know he’d just want to live fast and free.” Dame Kris said as the two stepped into the ball together.

Marth finally slowed his walking speed right as they crossed the threshold, allowing Kris to take in the sights and sounds. He watched her reaction half out of wonderment for this moment, and half out of worry in the hopes the sounds and sights did not overwhelm her. Thankfully, the latter did not happen.

Kris’s pacing crawled to a stop as she looked over the grand ballroom. The event was full of people dressed in bright gowns and slick suits. The golden orange room sparkled, and the particles swirled to the music drums. In the far off south east corner there was the smell of rare wine, and plenty of laughter. On the higher floors - the walkways Kris and Marth attempted to access before - there were staff resting, and children laughing. Merric’s magic school made the highest floor their playground.

Kris’ eyes gazed over the combatants that hogged _their_ dance floor. The squatter’s steps were slow, and many were trying too hard to remember the patterns. Kris realized just how hard Marth and her over practiced. A part of her felt embarrassed for all the times she didn’t feel ready for such an event. She watched how partners swapped as strangers danced with strangers. Her arm wrapped around Marth protectively, for she was his only dance partner.

Standing on her toes, she then leaned forward to look past Marth and to the moonlight garden. The rivers that flowed through the lush grove babbled with fish life and lovers a plenty. The milky way painted across the sky, and guided Kris’ head to stare back inside to the sunny channelers.

Marth’s smile beamed more as he watched her body language say she was fully captivated by the space he called his home. Though she’s lived here for some time, he knows he never got to show her each room in its proper glory. Kris rested her hand on her heart. She finally let go of Marth’s cape as she covered her mouth as well.

“This is what my Grandfather fought for to protect? It’s beautiful…” Kris was fighting the urge to be simply ‘speechless’. “I haven’t seen this place look half as good as this since-“ Kris stopped herself, and now firmly clasped her mouth tight with her hand.

“Since my canceled wedding?” Marth said, his smile not once breaking.

Kris turned to Marth. Her hand still covering her mouth and thus hid all emotion. Marth reached out to her clasping hand, and attempted to slide his fingers in-between her hand and face to hold her. Kris surrendered her hand, and he interwoven their fingers together. Her face was frowning as Marth continued with a smile. “I don’t know still if she'd have liked us together, but I do know this; she would have wanted to watch us dance, just as much as she loved watching us spar.”

Kris moaned a very soft burst of bliss that shook through her whole body. Her voice was so pure that even the ball’s magic gimmick of voice masking couldn’t suppress the sweetness of her moan. Marth reached out and rattled her earring which turned Kris’ smile into a full grin.

Marth continued; “So let’s enjoy this night between the two of us, and for her.”

“Okay…” Kris sighed blissfully.

“Excuse me!” A woman called out to Marth and Kris. The Prince and their beloved turned to the clopping of heels. A woman with orange curly hair, a royal white dress, a red lioness mask, and one red gloved hand that clenched a red fan came trotting over to the two of them. When she came close she slowed her trot with military-like precision so she’d stop right in front of them.

The woman spoke to them slightly out of breath, and the grip on her dress was slightly shaking. “Do you two particularly _live_ in this castle? I saw only the staff use that entrance. I need some help.”

Marth and Kris instinctively looked at one another. In the silent motion, Marth was asking to break their masquerade, which Kris nodded in agreement. Kris let go of Marth and automatically assumed her knight stance. Her hands folded behind her back, on guard as they looked down at the woman. Marth took a step forward as he rested his hand on his chest.

“One can say that, yes. How may we help you?” Marth asked.

The woman rested her gloved hand on her chest, along with her fan as she caught her breath. “This is a matter that’s a little _too_ embarrassing to ask the knights for help, thank you so much! Have you seen a man with a lion’s mask in the style of mine on that side of the hallway? He has short green hair. He’s my husband. I’m most certain that he’s safe and sound! I simply, em, misplaced him!”

Marth shook his head. “I’m sorry, but we haven’t. However, I _could_ ask the guards saying that I’m looking for a friend.”

Marth offered his open palm to her. “May I have at the very least your name first, madam?”

The woman nodded in agreement. “I suppose that’s fair.” She went to rest her hand on Marth to shake. “My name is Celica-“

Marth’s hand uncharacterized flinched, but then swiftly recovered. “Of the, One Kingdom of Valentia?” Marth slowly said.

Celica stopped, stared at Marth, then swiftly flopped her fan open to obscure her face. “No.” She bluntly said, before pivoting around and walking away.

Marth turned to Kris as he slowly stood up. Both were not sure what to do. That is when Norne right in front of them found her target.The Royal Guard and her Prince looked up at the conversation.

“Excuse me, lady, were you looking for your husband? Green hair, and one glove?” Norne asked as she did a jazz hand to Celica.

Celica trotted over to Norne. “Yes! have you seen him?”

Norne cocked her hip. “I think he’s drinking with my husband.”

The cold night air blew past Celica’s soul. “What kind of drink is he having?” Celica asked with her voice hitting a high key.

Norne scratched the side of her cheek. “It smelled like wine?”

Celica spiked her paper fan on the floor. Her willpower for her spike of embarrassment and anger was so intense that the magic that masked her voice faltered. “He better not be drinking the offering we brought for the prince!”

The fan slid over to Marth and Kris’s feet. Both looked down at the fan, then at each other. Though their eyes were hidden, the awkward smiles they showed told them they were looking at one another. Kris then went to pick up the fan, but Marth stopped her - and picked up the fan and silently approached Celica.

While that exchange happened, Norne let out a high-pitched laugh. “ _Oh!_ Don’t worry! Marth doesn’t drink!”

Celica looked up at Norne, confused. The tulip masked woman gave her a confident smile. “My name is Lady Norne. I fought alongside Marth during the War of Shadows and Heroes.”

Celica rested both hands on her chest as she recovered from her little scream there. “Oh!….Hello there! Ah.. Forgive me for shouting. That gave me quite a fright. Is there, anyway you could tell me about Prince Marth? I’ve come a long way, you see.”

“Sure, but on one condition. You walk with me through the deep river gardens as I lament about my love life as well.” Norne said in a sunny singing voice.

Celica's smile was finally returning to her after her crazy goose chase. She then looked for her fan that she threw, then flinched seeing Marth was there right behind her shoulder and silently holding it out to her. Celica took the fan, both bowed to one another, and then Celica wrapped arms around Norne. The two women went to enjoy a nice evening.

“What’s your name?” Norne asked.

“My name is…Celestia” Celica lied through her fan covered teeth.

Kris watched them walk off. The knight side of her had to fight the impulse to rest her hands behind her head, but she definitely slouched like she was doing so. “How much do you want to bet that would have been us if I followed through with my plan?”

Marth walked over and corrected her posture with a few well placed pushes. “I’m not a betting man, but, a sizable amount for sure.”

He then hooked arms with her. “Do you mind if your pacing is _slightly_ more productive than expected. I am sure I’ll speak with that queen and her king tomorrow, but, I wouldn’t mind simply finding out where he is and listening in on him to ensure his relative safety.”

Kris bobbed her head back to show that she was rolling her eyes in thought. She forced herself to hold a puckered frown. “Hmm… On _one_ condition.”

Marth frowned, only because he was paying attention to exactly what she wanted from him. He watched her reach for his cape and wrap it around her back again. She looked up at him and then gave a massive smile. Marth felt a lot of blood rush to his face.

“K-Kris I can’t pay attention if I’m doing that”. Marth nervously murmured.

His queen of coy looked forward. “Who said it was for _you?”_ She slyly said as she _adjusted_ her grip.

Marth’s hips thrust out as he skid forward half a step in raw shock. Kris flipped open her fan and giggled into it. Marth slowly shook his head no, but a large smile was plastered on his face. He took a heavy deep breath as Kris walked up next to him. Marth looked forward, with a sweat drop going down his smiling red face. Kris leaned into view with her damn innocent smile. He didn’t face her but did offer his cape to her. She took a step in and wrapped herself up in his offer. The two of them marched, and Kris went into a giggling fit when Marth went to adjust his grip.

Hazel sighed as she was tending to the guest holding a silver platter full of food. _“It sure is boring here.”_ She thought to herself. She then saw Marth and Kris walk past her with Kris giggling up a storm. Hazel recognized Marth for she repaired his suit, but had no idea who the orange flower woman was. _“Oh! That’s the prince! Finally things are going to get lively! He even already found someone!”_ Hazel thought with a sparkle in her eye.

“Huh, that’s the princey an’ Krispy.” Hazel heard a guess say right next to her.

The diligent maid defaulted on her training and flipped out her knife and interrogated him. “Halt! Tell me how you knew that.”

The dapper gentleman with a white bunny mask looked down at Hazel. “They loitered across ma’ property. That behow I know em’, m’lady.” Hazel pulled back her knife bewildered by the man’s retort. The gentleman took a bow. “Me name be Dennis Monty Grail - self made nobleman at yer service. Ma’ _capitalistic endeavors_ funded this whole event.”

Hazel was erotically charged by the rustic grit of his voice and closed her pocket knife. “My, I love me a self-starter. My name is Hazel, from the house of Python.”

Dennis offered his elbow so Hazel may interlock it with his. “How’bout I self-start our relationship by offerin’ a dance with cha?”

Hazel slid her arm around his. “On one condition; if we wed, I keep my maiden name.”

The dapper gentlemen weighed his options. “Dennis Monty Python… _I like the ring of it.”_

Hazel flipped back her magnificent hair. “Nobody expects the Hazel proposition”.

And then the two marched to the dance floor, hors d'oeuvre tray and all.

\- - - - -

Back in Cain’s classy vomitorium, Sir Draug was already laying comfortably in the corner of the ball room - a drink in one hand and food in the other. He lazily watched the maids and their friends scurry about in front of him as he enjoyed his meal. Jeorge was leaning on a nearby pillar. His clean jacket was taken from him, so all he had on now was his vest. Jeorge the Snake Sniper was breathing out the discomfort. Gordin the Chicken Archer was orbiting around their tall master like a mother hen. Alm, who was now wearing Jeorge’s jacket that Cain confiscated, was standing tall from that ordeal. His beaming smile contrasted with the frantic nature of Cain. The Bull insisted he’d wipe down Alm to make sure there wasn’t a spot on him at all.

“I am so sorry any of that happened!” Cain uncharacteristically had his nerves show when he spoke.

Alm scoffed at the repeated statement, and once more went to reject it. “It’s alright! I’m just fine. My grandfather once said that puking is good to have! It’s better than choking!”

Cain stopped cleaning him. “That sounds a lot like what _Kris_ would say.”

“Oh, that Royal Guard?” Alm asked excitedly.

“Yeah…” Cain dismissively said as he focused on getting his job done.

Alm picked up on his passiveness. _“Every time I try to ask about her they go kinda quiet. That’s a little weird…”_ Alm thought to himself.

Once Cain was done, he went to discard the rag and order a maid to run off with Alm’s jacket to clean it immediately.Alm turned and walked up to Jeorge without a second thought. He got even closer than Gordin was. “Are you doing fine too?” King Alm asked.

Jeorge huffed out a head nod in approval. “I feel… refreshed for some odd reason.”

“Are you still drunk, Master?” Gordin clucked.

“Oh, no. I’m still drunk, Gordin. Just not as bad… yet I still can’t see.” Jeorge rejected to his apprentice. The snake turned his back to the pillar and rested his body on it to take even longer deep breaths.

Alm waved his hand in front of Jeorge and then snapped his fingers. “You sure you’re okay?

“I meant the visions.” Jeorge spoke softer, but was visibly displaying more control. “Just what is that wine you gave us?” He asked.

“Ram Wine.” Draug spoke with the grandiose nature of a grandfather talking about the first love of his life. “Finest in all of Valentia. Has a kick of a recovery to it like a healing potion. Brewed only in a little town called Ram Village at the southern tip of Valentia. Was able to get a taste of it from a couple of sailors that sailed us to Princess Caeda’s abode during the War of Shadows. Doesn’t the bottle look familiar?”

Draug held up the bottle of Ram Wine in the air so the trio didn’t have to look over the dining table. Gordin took off his mask so he could get a better look. “I think I remember it?” Gordin’s voice cracked.

Draug took a loving sip of the little that remained. “It’s the drink I drank when I met the love of my life.” 

“Draug, I don’t think the night we escaped Altea would be remembered because of the wine you drank that day! And you better have meant Norne and not a bottle, you big lug!” Gordin angrily clucked at him. The tipsy Jeorge chuckled, with Alm joining in.

Draug scoffed. “Got me there. Still, I heard they no longer make it there any more. Not sure why.”

All of Draugs friends listen to Draug who was laying on the other side of the table. Jeorge listened with mild fascination, Gordin in mild annoyance at Sir Draug’s love for booze, Alm however was hurt by the incompleteness of Draug’s understanding of his home.

Jeorge turned his head to Alm, swift like a watchful predator. Jeorge’s foresight was telling him that Alm was going to speak, but he thought the Ram Wine blurred the future he’d normally clearly see. Gordin, picking up on the cue, looked at Alm.

Alm went to speak; “They stopped growing it because of the failing harvest due to the lack of blessings from the goddess that once watched over that half of Valentia.”

The mixed emotions upon Alm’s face were thankfully masked by his own lion mask. An entire war campaign’s worth of struggles was hidden just underneath a costume piece. Draug sat up with his intrigued perked up a bit.

“That once _watched_?” Draug’s subtle sharp whit still had its edge.

The calm Cain walked into the conversation from behind the Lion, Chicken, and Snake. When he spoke, Gordin jumped back in shock - as usual - but so did Jeorge too this time.

“It’s ‘cause you killed it, right? Both of them, too, from what I heard.” Cain asked with a smile, referencing the dragon deities that once governed Alm’s land.

Alm turned to face the Bull and rubbed the back of his own head with a smile. “Well, It’s a bit more complicated than that. Uh...”

Jeorge grinned a deviant smirk as he slithered past Alm. “Don’t try, Alm.”

The calmness of Cain left as Cain leered at Jeorge. Jeorged walked to the other end of the food table to get something back in his body. Gordin was right in his wake, and made his plate for their drunk master. Alm tilted his head at Jeorge in confusion. “Why? He doesn’t have the full picture. I don’t see why I shouldn’t correct him.” Alm questioned.

“True or not, rumors spread like wildfires. There's no point in trying to correct or refute them.” Jeorge said.

“But isn’t the point of a king is to protect people from disasters - such as wildfires?” Alm retorted.

Jeorge rested his backside along the table as Gordin handed him their plate. He twirled a horderves in-between his fingertips like Jeorge would his own arrows. “You’re no different than Marth to the people’s eyes. Best let those fiery lies burn on.”

Jeorge went to eat, while Gordin’s heart stopped and looked at his ex-knights and the forgen king. Sir Draug was sitting up looking back at Gordin in equal shock, and both looked over up at Cain. The scowl hidden underneath his bull mask would have split a man in two - let alone the might he was holding back from snapping Jeorge like a twig. Cain remained silent, for he did have a sliver of restraint. He trusted his friend would recover from this blunder. Alm grew more confused at the disrespect that Jeorge was shooting at Marth.

“How exactly is the Prince and I the same again?” Alm approached the snake. The footsteps of the bull right behind the lion king made Alm stop. Cain glanced down at Alm - his expression unreadable beyond his frown. “I feel that any more steps I take may be putting Jeorge in danger.” Alm thought to himself as he stopped himself half way in his journey.

Jeorge remained silent as he let Alm realize he was his vanguard from keeping Sir Cain from wrecking him due to insulting Marth. Jeorge snickered a coy smirk which signaled Alm and Cain to look back up at Jeorge. Jeorge pointed at Cain as his body swayed slightly due to the wine sloshing in his system. “I care not. And so I am immortal. It's _that_ refreshing to speak so frankly. No need to be such a _Bull_ y. Hehkek.” Jeorge hiccuped.

Cain folded his arms as he huffed steam from his nose. “Just answer his question.”

Gordin the chicken knew Cain’s tells and ran around the table to hide behind Draug for cover. The Drunk bear was at the edge of his seat waiting for the beating to commence. Jeorge’s head was facing the dancing crowds in front of them. His snake mask obscured the fact Jeorge was still looking at Alm which only painted a veil of mystery to the young cub.

“Let’s play a game. I think that’s the most articulate way to explain this point.” Jeorge said as he ate another table scrap from his plate. “Cain’s the Bull. Draug’s the Bear, Gordin’s a sitting duck.”

“FOR THE LAST TIME, I’M A CHICKEN!” Gordin shouted, which Draug covered his mouth. Jeorge entered into a little giggle fit before he retained his composure.

“Elice is the moon, Merric’s the sun. Caeda is-“.

The little zoo perked up their heads hearing her name. Jeorge tilted his head down and exhaled. He was still smiling, but even he thought she was still here. Alm, who heard of her stories from their festivities just before, simply stood stoic, and waited to hear what the fallen princess would have worn to this ball.

“…Would have been a swan.” Jeorge sighed as his smile attempted to mask the spilled blood that was on his hands.

“She seemed more like a black swan from what you told me about her.” Alm said as he smiled to push their slender friend along.

The blond snake turned his head to Alm. “See, you’re already good at this game”. Jeorge said chuckling.

As the snake ate another morsel of food, Alm the Lion looked up to Cain who was right besides him. Cain already stopped folding their arms, and their frown no longer held hatred for Jeorge. Alm made a mental note of Cain’s softness as he then went back to focus on Jeorge.

“And if you and your girl are lions and I’m a snake; What type of mask would you think Marth would wear from what you know about him and heard from our tales?” Jeorge said as he placed his plate on the table. With a smile, he reached over to a bottle and an empty glass and poured himself another drink to drown his guilt he had over Caeda.

“That is, assuming that all of us are - perchance - fictional characters within a book who are appropriately themed masked at a masquerade. Hu-huh.” Jeorge giggled with his foresight possibly making him aware of the dramatic irony while in his drunken state. He drank away that horrific thought of his limited existence, along with his much more ‘real’ self-inflicted sorrows.

Cain sighed rolling his eyes, frustrated by the fact that Jeorge was toying them along. He looked down at Alm to see if he was willing to deal with Jeorge’s dung they were throwing at him. Regrettably, he saw the young man folding his arms and thinking out loud.

“Celica was better at these riddles then I am, but...” Alm said while thinking to himself.

Jeorge took another sip of the sweet poison. “You were able to guess Caeda. Marth shouldn’t be too hard for you.”

Alm bobbed his head to Jeorge to give him that point while he pondered more. “After all the stories I heard about him, and you all tonight, I think he would have a Witch mask.”

Jeorge bubbled the sip he was taking back into the glass and put the drink on the table for now. He looked up at Alm with inventiveness. Cain, however, looked at Alm in confusion.

“A... witch mask?” Cain asked.

“I was about to say Owl actually, or a Crow, but...” Alm was still thinking about his response.

Cain looked at Jeorge. “What’s a witch mask?”

“Another person I can’t see?” Jeorge said absentmindedly.

Cain hissed from his teeth, knowing he wasn’t going to get his question answered immediately. Alm looked up at Jeorge, who was rubbing his fingers through his golden hair. Jeorge continued: “There’ve been four people I have been unable to see clearly in my life: your wife, Marth, and his Royal Guard, and now you. I thought I had a read on you.”

Alm got a confidence boost hearing he was now a part of a higher tier. “And you told me that the Royal Guard was nothing. Nice to see both me and her are suddenly in the special club!” Alm laughed, while all the knights and travelers who fought alongside Kris glanced away, smiling. They were happy they were keeping Kris’s wish to be unknown to history to honor her.

Jeorge muffled his voice by placing his glass over his mouth. “Still, tell me your thought process of your mask choices, before Cain beats it out of you.”

Cain clicked his tongue at Jeorge with a smirk shooting across his face. He then presented his fist to the blond sniper. “There’s only one man who’s in line for a royal beating here.”

“No one will punch me tonight.” Jeorge the Sniper said seductively while twirling his long ponytail.

“ _Hmm_ , tempting fate there, _Jeorgey_.” Cain volleyed back as he grabbed some food from the table to chew on. Alm sighed with a smile, relaxing knowing the tension between the two were gone. He then went to explain. “Well, before I met you four I would have thought of a Crow or an Owl for the Prince’s mask. Both of those animals symbolize death.”

The smile faded as he looked at the pillar right behind Jeorge that kissed the end of the table. “If only these walls could talk, there’sscars in the pillars and walls. This room’s seen battle. It was a war zone - twice over - when Prince Marth had to save his kingdom. I bet most of these scratches came from him. Walking in this castle too - I saw thrust stabs through the doors, done by a rapier.”

Jeorge smiled as he sipped his booze, and Gordin chirped in while Draugr offered Cain a drink. “Wowzers, how’d you know it was a rapier thrust!? I mean, I know his skill with it is known but, YEAH! He did that a lot to check the doors!”

Alm turned back to Gordin with a smile while Cain refused the drink. “I can read a room well. I’m pretty good at finding secrets too. It’s why I like cats so much, they love to hide in rooms.”

As Draug happily had more to himself, Jeorge cocked his drink to Alm. “Almost as much as you love oranges?”

“Yeah!” Alm said turning to Jeorge, but then was confused. “Wait, how’d you know that?”

Jeorge only drunkenly laughed as he took another sip. Cain groaned at Jeorge’s cringeworthyness before addressing Alm himself. His curiosity was burning. “So what exactly is a witch, and why’d you think Marth would wear one?”

The Lion looked up at The Bull with a blank stare, before looking past him. Cain, for a brief moment, saw Marth instead of Alm standing next to him. Cain folded his armsand gave a slanted smile. “Sorry, was that sensitive?”

Alm shook his head to him then went to speak. “Witches were women who gave up their souls to Duma in exchange for power. With that though, they gave up their identities and entire lives.”

Alm sighed as he looked down at the ground. “The only way to save them is by slaying them. Their soul briefly comes back to their body, before they draw their final breath. I saved a cleric named Tatiana from being sacrificed to them. I fought….. A lot of them. And some of them I knew, too.”

Alm was working through memories of times he didn’t expect to recall in this time and place. Cain respectfully stayed silent as he looked worryingly through his bull mask. Cain’s worry fully veiled the impulsive readiness he had to beat the tar out of any other person who was going to talk and interrupt Alm’s recovery time. Gordin was that almost unlucky fellow, and went to ask ‘who Alm knew’. Jeorge in the silence though grabbed a scrap from the table and flicked it into Gordin’s mouth. Though it didn’t kill him, Gordin did choke for a hot second there. Draug was there to pick up the volley and saved Gordin from choking. All four of them; Draug, Gordin, Alm, and Cain were none the wiser of Jeorge’s distraction.

Alm was able to continue as he shifted his weight to work back up the power to look neutrally at Cain. Though the mask hid his worry, he spoke with determination. “After hearing Jeorge say he’s like me, I can’t help but to think he was thrust into every challenge he had to face. Marth seemed like someone who’d give up everything for a victory… I mean, sacrifice _himself_ for one. Is that why he’s so strong, Cain?”

Cain smiled hearing that and rehearsed a line Sir Jagen drilled into his core. “Overcoming status and position; being able to fight together as equals... That is how Prince Marth fights. No matter when an ally came to our side, they could instantly join the battle with us. That is also a necessary skill for being an Altean knight.”

Alm looked away as he adjusted his singular red glove that marked him as a hero. “Then maybe not a witch.”

Cain let out a low chuckle. “Oh no, I think a witch mask still suits him. He sure wasn’t _gifted_ that power though, I’ll tell you that much.”

Gordin who recovered from his near death experience clucked at Cain to vent out his frustrations. “Yeah, like how you waterboarded Marth in the name of ‘training’.”

Cain blinked, before he shouted at Gordin from across the table. “Hey! That was to help him train his breathing technique! He can hold his breath even if he jumped into freezing water without gasping because of me!”

Draud leaned in shaking his head. “Gotta back up Gordin on this. The crap you put the poor kid through was worse than whatever the heck Sir MacLear made Dame Kris live through.”

Gordin wheezed; “Cain _wished_.”

Cain was getting ticked. “Get off my back. I was still learning how to teach then!”

Alm’s thought went right to Kris, the one note Royal Guard - least of what they heard of her so far. _“Wait, so, did Marth’s Royal Guard train harder than him? ‘Cain wished’? I thought that Kris card was a nobody, yet they trained just as hard as Marth? Just who is she?…They? Them? Just who is Marth now? I don’t even know.”_ Alm thought to himself.

His eyes then scanned across the dancers to see if maybe he could spot her. “Hey Cain? Is there any way I could meet his Royal Guard?”

Cain reached into his back pocket and pulled out his Calling Stone. It was larger than the other ones, about the size of an egg. “I mean, I don’t see why checking in on her wouldn’t hurt. I haven’t seen her for the past three days or so.”

Alm glanced up at Cain, recognizing him using a similar stone to the Altean knights used when himself and his Celica came to the ball, and looked more intently around the room to see if anyone in the crowd suddenly flinched. This is where Kris would have been detected if she didn’t use her stone to openly cry to her beloved Marth. “Aren’t you the head of the knights?” Alm asked.

Cain was focused on the stone while responding. “She’s a special case.” After a slight pause, he put the stone away. “Nothing.”

Cain turned his head to Jeorge, which said man cut him off. “Don’t ask me.” Jeorge said as he poured himself another drink. Gordin was growing worried for Jeorge’s level, but felt that he was powerless to stop him.

The bull focused on Alm. “Any reason why you wanted to meet her all of the sudden?” Alm attempted to spot any oddities from the crowd, but nothing caught his eye, more so because Jeorge kept secretly silent of Marth’s actual mask he wore today. Jeorge drank with a pleased smile knowing that the conversation topic died at the right time.

Alm turned to Cain. “It’s just off of what Jeorge has been saying, I don’t feel like I know Marth at all now. If rumors really bloated his image, I’m unsure what type of man invited us now. I wanted to speak to the person who was always next to him.”

Jeorge stopped mid-swig, and spat the booze back into the cup again. The aftertaste burned, but not as sickening was accidentally misguiding Alm to him. “Actually, the company you’ve been surrounded by ever since you came here have known Marth longer than she has. So don’t threat yourself over that.”

Alm held a sympathetic smile. “That’s comforting to hear, actually. Thanks. Still, I want to get to know the real him. I’m not the best at these kingly duties yet, but I should least ‘get’ the person I want to become allies with.”

Cain folded his arms standing proudly. “Well, you can’t get any better than Sir Draug, Gordin, and I. You got any questions you want clarified? You can ask me anything, and I mean that.”

Alm looked up at Cain. “How can I trust your word?”

“A true knight must always speak the truth. That is the Code of Chivalry.” Caid said.

“Ah, right… Knight…. _Stuff_. ‘Guess that’s common everywhere.” Alm scratched the back of his head. Alm had to weigh his thoughts before talking. “I’m thinking about all the stories I heard about him and his wild feats. Yet all of them don’t add up to one detail that’s confusing me. How exactly did this Caeda die? She was so strong from what you all told me, recruited so many to your side in the War of Shadows, and yet I don’t get it. Shouldn’t this Hero King have been strong enough to have saved her?”

Cain’s smile dropped to a frown as his heart pumped. Much of his strength in his arms left, and were only staying folded because of raw friction. That’s when Jeorge started to laugh again.

All the men looked at Jeorge as he was laughing. His bow-string hand trembled. His dominant hand that held his liquor shook as hard as a sword hand would shake, and he spilled half of his drink onto the floor. He laughed till tears were coming out of from the bottom of his snake mask. It was a sick laugh. A hysterical hollering.

Alm took one step back away from Jeorge, and looked back at Gordin and Draug who were staring at Jeorge in equal shock. “Maybe one of you should have stopped him from drinking so much?” Alm asked slightly sarcastically.

Any positive mood Alm had, no matter the fraction, was crushed by Cain’s heel as he walked forward to the snake. “Why are you laughing?” Cain’s chilled tone could stab better than a spear.

Recognizing themselves that they were someone Cain wouldn’t dare to hit, Alm ran in-between the bull and snake. “Cain! Cain! He’s just drunk! Just leave him be. He didn’t mean to laugh. It was bad timing!”

The bull tilted their head, their expression unreadable, but his shadow loomed over the king nonetheless. Jeorge smashed his bowstring fist on the table and let go of the glass. He held his dominant hand as he was smiling, with tears still rolling down his face.

“Cain…” Jeorge somewhat calmly said to the bull. “I came here to this party not to mingle, but for one mission. It was to get Alm drunk enough so that you were spared that very question. I’m sorry that I failed you, friend.”

Cain perked his head up and looked now at Jeorge. His lips agape in mild shock, but mostly confusion. “What?…” The bull could only manage to say, softly.Alm pivoted looking perplexed as Jeorge went to grab his drink from the table now that his hand was steady.

“I’ll handle that question for you.” Jeorge said, before he bottom’s up the drink he had. Cain stood still, but his body language started to show hints of uncomfortableness. Jeorge finished his drink and poured himself another glass.

“I killed her. I shot her right out of the sky.” Jeorge admitted through uneven huffs of air. He was smiling with tears trailing down his face.

He went to take another shot, but Alm held Jeorge’s hand and took his rum from him with a smile. “ _Alright_ , I think that’s enough drink for you.”

Alm refused to buy what Jeorge sold him - just as Jeorge foresaw. Alm put down the glass, but only saw Draug clenching his teeth and looking the other way. Gordin had his mask off and was staring at Jeorge looking nervous. A cold sweat started to roll down Alm’s back as he looked back over at Jeorge and Cain. Cain looked away from the group, before outright pivoting and standing on guard again silently. Jeorge was leaning on the pillar next to the table. The snake was shaking with tears still rolling down his face.

Alm’s mask never felt as sweaty as it did now. Gawking at the murderous snake, the lion worked up the courage to speak. “It was an accident, _right?”_ Alm asked.

Yet when all Jeorge could do was wheeze out another pain laugh, Alm held his gut and mouth. Jeorge slid down the pillar and sat on the ground. Jeorge laughed louder. There were tear stains bleeding through his mask, just like his arrows caused men to drip till they were dry. Jeorge continued to rattle like a rattlesnake - petrifying the other animals around them with his pained hissings. He laughed till the next band swapped in and played their next song.


	15. Swan Dive

The next song was a slow one. The tune was an ode of sorts - Alleycat. The patrons swayed with their partners even if they weren’t even on the dance floor - the kick of the sad melody was that captivating. Cain watched the guest drift by on the shimmering waters of the Ball. He was no longer searching for assassins, but rather the long-gone black swan. Jeorge calmed down, he was still staring at the hoofs of the Bull. There was still a smile now seemingly stitched into his face.

The Lion still backed away slowly, his eyes shaking. Memories of a moment during his war were starting to lay their eggs of dread. That’s when the snake spoke again - eating the roaches before they could dig any deeper into Alm’s skin.

“It’s not like what you had to do to _her_ , Alm. Not even close.” Jeorge said as he stared at the back of Cain’s feet. “And don’t stand on the table, Gordin.”

Alm relaxed his stance but looked at the table to the right of him. Unmasked Gordin was about to hop over the table with Draug assisting him before they were both called out. The big bear then lowered Gordin and just let the small archer jog around the long table to kneel by their Master. Alm watched Gordin shake Jeorge’s shoulders to try to get him to stand up, but he wasn’t moving from his spot.

Alm rested both fists to push into his gut to ease the growing discomfort, then took his time to look over his new friends to read everyone. Alm turned his head to Draug first since he was behind them. The Bear looked up and shrugged, accepting life as it came. Alm then looked back at Cain, who had their back to all of them.

The strength Alm was pushing on his gut relaxed as he stared at Cain. _“My grandfather taught me that you should never turn my back on an enemy. I know Sir Mycen didn’t directly teach me that whole ‘Code of Chivalry’ nonsense, but if that code is the same even here in Altea, then…”_

Alm paused in his thinking and looked back down at Jeorge. Gordin was trying to get Jeorge to stand up, but he wouldn’t budge. Cain still had his back to Jeorge, keeping watch. Alm continued his thought with his expression underneath his mask softening.

 _“…Marth’s practically is as forgiving as Celica is… That goes against nearly everything I heard about this Marth guy. I heard that he held no quarter for his foes. Cain and the others said he was nice, for sure, but not like a_ _literal saint_ _like Celica is a_ _cleric_ _.”_

Alm attempted to read the room and who’d be the most willing to talk. Draug was actively avoiding eye contact, Jeorge seemed incompasitated, with Gordin trying to shake him to wake up. That left only Cain. The snake watched behind the grass that was Gordin’s green hair as Alm attempted to make the Bull speak.

“Cain, can you tell me what happened to Caeda?” Alm asked.

Cain drew a long sigh as he shook his head. “I wasn’t there.” He said dryly.

Alm grew only more confused. “But you’re, like, the Commander and stuff. Shouldn’t you have been there?”

Cain only glanced at Alm before turning away from him to look for the ghost of Caeda. Jeorge smirked, which made Gordin flinch. Jeorge opened his arms to his student. Draug then banged his fist on the table. The banging scared Gordin, and the chicken flung himself into Jeorge’s hug for protection.

“Cain, don’t be such a stick in the mud! The good man asked ya a question and you ain’t man enough to talk?” Draug boomed at the hurt bull. Cain did not respond. Draug waved the red bull off and chopped at the air when he spoke to Alm.

“Okay, so you know what even happened on this side of the lake? Level with me, Alm.” Draug asked Alm who was turning to face him. Alm clenched his sword hand, his gloved hand, and held it to his chest as he looked down remorsefully.

“Truthfully I’d safely say ‘No’ if we’re leveling. Celica was teaching me how to do my job during the whole year that War of Heroes waged. I’m sorry that I wasn’t here-“. Alm said before he was cut off.

Draug hissed out a shot of air from his teeth before chuckling. The only one who had a proper ‘no strings attached’ smile was jolly ol’ Sir Draug. “Ah, shut up _Marth._ You can’t be there for everyone! You only just met us!” The Bear laughed again, which did help put a very small smile on Alm’s face.

Draug continued to tell the war story as he helped himself to the food that still lined the table between him and the Lion. “Alright, so this rock we’re standing on is called Altea, right? Well it’s _in_ Archanea, yeah? There was an empire _named_ _Archanea_ that owned near everyone, including this island of Altea. You following so far?”

Alm folded his arms in thought. “I think the word was ‘Suzerainty’? I can’t remember, but Altea was owned like a pet cat. That’s how I remember that type of relationship.”

“Yeah, that.” Draug said as he shoved some meat down into his gut. He spoke after he at least swallowed. “The empire was run by Hardin, an old _‘bud’_ of ours - another prince from another kingdom who fought with us. Princess Nyna was the last heir to the actual kingdom. Jeorge here called that kingdom home, and fought for her name during the Shadow fighting.”

Draug paused as he went to eat another shovel of food. Alm looked back at Gordin, Cain, and Jeorge. In worry, he focused on Cain first. Alm was pleased to see that Cain was subtly swaying to the slow song that was soothing the minotaur beast down. Alm looked down then at the ground and saw Gordin had already put back on his mask to hide his flustered blush. Jeorge was cradled his little chicken like he was just a chick, visibly more controlled by the tempo. They rocked together like a metronome. Jeorge’s smile was not manic now that he got to hold his little buddy.

“Think you can puzzle how she died by me yet?” Jeorge asked to give Draug time to swallow his food before he accidentally choked on it.

Alm’s smile that was starting to sprout dissipated upon hearing Jeorge’s question. “I’m not too sure yet.”

“Don’t talk to him. He’ll just make you more angry like Cain.” Draug said, attempting to pull the Lion’s attention back to him.

The bear continued his tale, shockingly sober. He was the best man here who could hold his own. “After the war, Nyna and Hardin got hitched right away. Marth was distracted on recovering Altea before Caeda could marry him. But then-.”

Jeorge chirped in. “Marth would have married Nyna if Caeda wasn’t there, even though there was no love between them.” Gordin looked at their master, but then curled up in fear when Cain turned his head back to Jeorge.

“Don’t you say that.” Cain snarled.

“That makes sense.” Alm softly intervened. Cain looked back at Alm as he continued. “If the main empire only had a princess - who from the sounds of it - wasn’t too good at ruling by herself. That would have been devastating for everyone since the empire was so large. If Marth’s mask was a witch, he’d cut off his hand for the people - let alone his own heart.”

Cain huffed from his nose and went back to watching the crowds. Jeorge smirked as he petted his Gordin. “Ssssssay, you’re pretty good at thisssss game, your majessssssty.” Jeorge hissed once again.

Gordin stared blankly forward, not used to being held this way by someone he deeply respected. “Can you not be as literal with the mask your role is asking you to play, Master? It’s a little cringe worthy.” Which the drunk snake only responded by hissing into Gordin’s ear as they continued to rock. Gordin curled up into a ball with strange feelings awakening inside of him.

“Get a room.” Draug dismissed before continuing. “So, we spent a year recovering from the Shadows. Opened the gates, had new knights come in. All that happened. Then, like, a week before Marth’s-.“

“It was the day before Caeda and Marth’s wedding is when things went to hell, Sir Draug.” Cain corrected as he was still facing away from everyone. All turned and faced the bull. Jeorge frowned with his heart sinking to his gut.

“Wait, you don’t have to-.“ Jeorge attempted to control the conversation, to keep Cain from directly interacting with the past, but was silenced when Cain pivoted slowly around and looked down at Alm. The Lion looked up to the knight, and the lord knew that this hurt bull was only putting up a strong front. He gave him his undivided attention.

Cain the Bull spoke. “The day before his wedding Marth received a letter from Emperor Hardin. He said that there was a Grustian rebellion and he ordered Marth to suppress it. He also ordered the entire army of Altea to go. Marth did not follow that order to the exact letter as he took his Royal Guard, the Guard’s platoon, Draug, Gordin, and two dead knights; named Arran and my old man Jagen. Events kept happening that pulled Marth further away from his home.”

Alm attempted to summarize while also guessing where Hardin’s ploy was going. “So Hardin pulled the oldest trick in the book on him of ‘made you look’? How did that even work?”

Jeorge once again pinched in, but looked only at the ground. “Hardin was an excellent judge of character. He even had me under tight supervision when I ran my sniper squad out to the field…”

Alm took a second to process that information, but then his eyes widen and looked up at Cain. “So that means, when Marth was gone Hardin took over Altea? Is that when she died?”

Cain shook his head as he went back to standing tall and on guard, now simply seeing if he could spot his little buddy in the crowds. His heart told him that Marth was out there slow dancing with someone - a new woman to give Altea hope for the future. “Altea did fell. Elice surrendered herself to stop the fighting. But in the chaos I was getting as many knights as I could to escape Hardin’s overwhelming forces. He prepared knowing Marth wouldn’t have actually followed his order exactly. There was so many…”

Cain sighed shaking his head. “That was the last time I ever saw Caeda. She flew off on her pegasus to be the one to warn Marth directly that all of this was happening. If I knew that was the last time I saw her I’d-“

“She saved your hide by doing that.” Jeorge retorted.

Cain looked back at the snake who still was snuggly wrapped around his chicken. “There were a lot of factors, but her leaving not only allowed you to escape because she was ‘a bigger target’, but also stopped Marth from fumbling into the traps Hardin forced me to prepare that’d snag Marth if he just ‘came back’. You going the longer route that you did to rendezvous with us saved our hides when Hardin clashed with Marth directly on Chiasmir Bridge. Don’t think for a second she was just bait - nor her ‘sacrifice’ was in vain.”

Jeorge hugged Gordin closer to his body, nauseated by the thought of viewing his friends as just chess pieces - even though it was so easy for him to do so. “There was no such ‘sacrifice’ ever in what I saw, her death was just a misplay.”

Cain stayed silent before responding by simply nodding his head to them and went back to watching the crowds. The heavy topic was shifting owner to owner around the foreign lion, and now the boulder rested in a lull. Alm then looked down at Gordin who was the only animal who hasn’t attempted to push the boulder yet. The foreign lion Alm looked down at the chicken. The spotlight was suddenly on Gordin, which he shook his head nervously to Alm - making the Saint King grin.

“What happened then, Gordin?” Alm tried to encourage Gordin on.

Gordin looked away, with Jeorge tugging Gordin’s goofy chicken mask down while shooting a leer to Alm. The King took a step back awkwardly grinning down at the irritated snake. The Lion forgot he didn’t call the shots in this pit. “Sorry…” Alm said apologetically.

Alm pushed forward though, a frown riddling his face. “Still, I want to know what happened. I raised hell and back in spite of _and_ because of Celica during my campaign. What a man does for the woman they love means something personal to me.”

Jeorge looked down at the ground, knowing Draug was about to blame himself.

The bear sighed. “I guess that ‘misplay’ Jeorge said was my fault. I wasn’t fast enough.”

“Shut up.” Jeorge said, dead inside, and tired.

The bear still held a smile as he turned to Jeorge and looked at him over the table. “Then what did you mean by that misplay comment? Who messed up?” Draug asked.

“Just bite the cow and moo that it was you already, Jeorge. No need to get _prideful_ all of the sudden. We already forgave you, Jeorge. You don’t need to _still_ be glum about it.” Cain said, still giving only his submissive back to Jeorge. Both Jeorge and Cain knew that he was giving his back to him out of respect due to the Code of Chivalry. It was the most ‘trusting’ gesture Cain could give Jeorge.

Jeorge however focused his sights onto the king besides them. Alm stood tall waiting for their friend to speak and smiled at him. The rim of Jeorge’s own snake mask obscured the top of Alm’s head to him. Jeorge’s heart raced, for he was able to forget he was talking to a lion, but rather the butterfly that was Marth. For the third time in his life, Jeorge was putting his blind trust in a future he could not see. Alm watched Jeorge’s body language grow more meek as the snake tightened his grip around Gordin - who said chicken was staying perfectly still.

“Marth failed.” Jeorge meekly said.

The normal happy-go-lucky bear sharply turned their head. Sir Draug was taken back by what Jeorge said. Sir Cain turned around, appalled at the blasphemy that came out of the snake’s mouth. “The heck you just say?” Cain asked.

Gordin was shaking in Jeorge’s lap as he was looking between the both the attentive bear and the murderous bull that were eyeballing them both down. The shmucky snake shrugged as he rested his wrists on his bent knees, letting Gordin stay or run away if he pleased. “No one wouldn't have needed to die if Marth hadn't come so close. Fools…”

Cain turned around and ripped off his mask to look at Jeorge. The slow dance still played, making Gordin scurrying away behind Alm look like the chicken traveled at light speed in comparison to the slowly swaying dancers. The shock, the vial disgust, it was all apparent on Cain’s face. Jeorge’s drained neck somehow found the power in the booze in his blood to slog his head up so the two men could meet eyes. Cain was gawking at him while a sweat drop dripped down his face. Cain’s sword hand shook and nearly dropped the mask he was holding. Cain was waiting, begging for Jeorge to correct himself.

The snake shrugged. “A true knight must speak the truth. I can only blame Marth’s poor leadership for Caeda having to die.”

Cain crushed his mask with the same force he was about to crush Jeorge’s skull with. He threw his rubbish away. The bull spoke; “I will not have you drunkenly puke **blasphemy** about the Prince in his own home!”

The bull went to take a step to the snake, but then the lion made one large stride forward. In rhythm to the slow tunes, Alm took a step forward just as Celica taught him how to dance just for this event. The precision strike of Alm’s metal heel clapping on the ballroom floor made the unshakeable rage in Cain flinch. Cain looked at Alm as he took delayed steps forward in-between them. Each step he made made Alm’s smile for this was the first time he was registering the power of his new title. The young man was making a demon of a man back down by the echo of his own heel clap.

With a full smile now adoring Alm’s face, he waltzed in front of Jeorge. As he sat in front of the slender blond sniper, Alm took off Jeorge’s jacket he had on and draped it over the sad snake. The reptile smiled a tired grin as his clothing was returned to him.

“Why don’t you tell me what happened from your account then, Sir Jeorge? It seems like you’re still weighed by the thought of her.” Alm said as he kneeled down to Jeorge’s level.

Cain huffed steam from his nostrils as he went to march away. Alm called him back. “Hey now, don’t you run off. You should hear your friend out!”

Cain was visibly shaking as he looked back at Alm. He had no intention of heading back. Alm spread out his hands wide while leaning back as he kept kneeling. “It’d be a _shame if_ I just left this castle too! Never getting to talk to Marth, or even considering any alliance with Altea!” Alm sang, as the snake was giggling. Tears started to roll down Jeorge’s face as he was blushing. He wasn’t sure what feeling he was feeling, but at least one of them was ‘comfort’.

The trembling bull walked back, giving death eyes at Alm and Jeorge. With a smirk, the overconfident lion did attempt to reel back in Cain too. “You are allowed to call me one slur for now, as a friend - Cain.” Alm offered with a stunning shining grin.

“Fucking asshole.” Cain never hesitated when given an opening. Alm wheezed as Cain stood on the other side of the gentlemen's club’s dining table. “Give me a drink. Mix me the hardest shit you can.” Cain ordered Sir Draug. Draug dug around the messy table to see what he could conjure.

“Knew you’d cave sooner or later with me around, buddy.” Draug said as he perused his messy canvas to paint another horrific masterpiece. Gordin shakily signaled Draug to get him a drink too to calm his own nerves.

The Lion Alm and the Snake watched Cain guzzle down the madman’s concoction and choke and cough on the bitter brew. “I can’t imagine losing someone like that in my life.” Alm said, as Jeorge looked back at Alm. Alm finally sat on the ground with Jeorge. Alm continued; “To just have them vanish like that, to lose them. I’d have my own visions like that on the field… I was blessed with them to avoid those futures. Celica was spurred on with her own vision of my death, and that’s how we were able to meet each other again after being separated when we were children. I can think of only the pain that could happen to me.”

Alm drew in a shaken breath as he looked at Jeorge with a frown. “I never thought I’d find another person who could relate to hurting their own loved one like I did. I can only react to the flash of the regret, because Celica turned out okay, but in that moment I hated myself. I hated everything that brought me to that point. I can’t imagine moving on without my own Caeda…”

“You’d be just like Marth. You’d carry on…somehow.” Jeorge mumbled.

“Yeah, And never be happy again.” Alm said mournfully.

“You never quite know.” Jeorge whispered back.

Alm held a crooked grin knowing a certain woman who’d jump on top of him if he was suddenly available. “I ain’t too sure about that, chief.” Alm retorted.

The snake scoffed a laugh, but their little merriment was stopped when Cain offered Jeorge a glass. The bull wasn’t looking down at him - and he was forcing his body to not break the glass. “Take it, and get on with it. Do it both before I beat the shit out of you.” Cain struggled to say in a soft speaking volume.

Jeorge meandered around. “Welllllll, I think I haaaaaad enough Caaaain - Sure.”

Jeorge happily took another drink and supped on it, while Cain bottom’s up his glass.Alm chuckled as he lounged back while still sitting on the ground. He was happy he was able to keep their friendship from breaking apart. Cain smashed his drink on the table and stared forward as he spoke. “So why’d you say It was Marth’s fault Caeda died? Bit of a ballsy move if I say so myself.”

Jeorge had a far off stare as he was looking past Alm who sat in front of him on the floor. “Olbern Keep. The first battle Marth deployed her in. They were all rushing back to Altea after hearing the news. The river ways were blocked by Hardin’s forces, forcing Marth to take the longer sea route to coil back on foot to his homeland. Hardin positioned my sniper squad to help defend Olbern Keep. I refused and stayed in the trees. Hardin had a back up plan to test my loyalty and had a Cleric stationed to follow our platoon. They kept us alive, and had valuable goods on them too. It wasn’t someone I could just ‘mistakenly lose’ suddenly. I ordered my men to stay down unless Marth came into the range of where I was hiding.”

Jeorge then turned his head in the general direction of the shaking Gordin. “My apprentice there was still a knight of Altea at the time. He knew to stay clear of the trees with the messages I could get to him, Alm.”

Gordin looked down at his glass of spirits. His bowstring hand waving slightly in regret. Jeorge continued. “He couldn’t tell anyone though that I was trying to set up a ploy to switch sides. My squad was growing suspicious of my want to defect to Marth’s side, but I couldn’t do it then and there. I needed to wait for an opportunity where I didn’t get all those innocent men killed just because I hated how Hardin was ruling my kingdom.”

Alm looked back at Gordin the chicken to see if his hand stopped shaking in regret. It didn’t. Jeorge took a sip of his bitter booze.

Jeorge continued, his eyes growing hazy. “…Can’t remember the men Marth deployed to attack the ground troops that circled around. Draug was there. But all that matters is that Caeda was there. Caeda was following Marth’s order after stepping into my archer’s range when they went to seize Olbern Keep. I had to move in, otherwise the snake behind me would have had my head later. I had to shoot. Marth wasn’t standing in my way - nor accommodated for Draug to block the chokepoint. I waited for her to be over the river that surrounded that keep. It was like shooting a goose, Alm. It was a easy shot.”

Tears rolled down Jeorge’s face as his expression stayed still as a frozen pond. His tears dripped into his glass. The heavy drip sound made Jeorge smirk. The tears were defrosting that once solid pond. “It wasn’t the hit that killed her. I shot the pegasus right through the heart. It wasn’t the fall that killed her. The pegasus broke the surface tension of the water.”

Jeorge started to giggle, and sniffle. “I forgot that in the morning the river was still too cold for her to have lived that dive. She died like some simple maiden just fetching a pail of water.”

Alm stayed static to hear the history, but tilted his head down with a nervous smile. “I don’t understand what that means actually. My village had a well. We didn’t need to go down to the river.”

Jeorge swigged his drink, grinning, and used his cup to catch his tears. “What a _sound_ investment.” Jeorge said in a singing tone. He continued. “The waters were cold, just like the rivers in the castle’s garden are tonight. You slip into water like that? Your body can’t help but to gasp. There then goes your lungs, filling up like the bucket you were supposed to carry.”

Jeorge twirled his glass around to mix in the salt he just added. “...If only Marth moved a little bit faster. Then all the pieces would have moved differently, just enough for her to be alive today.”

Jeorge bottoms up the glass, but mid drink he then made a sharp look at Gordin. The snake was confused why Gordin was suddenly breathing more normally, then he looked where his student’s eyes were aiming at. They were looking at Alm, who was passively calming down Gordin the entire time Jeorge had his eyes on his own drink. The master was left speechless because his own student escaped his sight.

Gordin went to throw his tale in this melting pot. “…And he, totally…Like. You know those stories where you think Marth is a monster?”

Alm nodded his head with a soft smile to continue to encourage him on. Alm was comforting Gordin the entire time Jeorge spun his tale.

Gordin’s poor voice cracked. “Well uh, that’s where uh, _IN_ the keep it was an absolute mess.”

Alm asked a question to help keep guiding Gordin along. “I take it that’s where we get that tall tale where Marth is War incarnate come from?”

Gordin timidly shook his head. “Oh, no, it wasn’t a tall tale. Blood was everywhere, both his and theirs.” He said, then took another chug from his hard liquor.

Cain looked over at Gordin confused. “His and theirs?” Cain asked. “What are you talking about? Marth was scratch-less after that fight from the reports I got from Jagen.”

Draug smiled at Cain from across the table while his impulses told the bear to prepare another drink for Gordin. “Jagen told us not to actually say about what actually happened.”

Cain looked at Draug, confused, then back at Gordin. “Why are you saying what happened then?” Cain asked.

Gordin chugged the rest of his booze and firmly placed his glass on the table. “Because I’m not a knight any more!” Gordin said.

Jeorge was rapidly seeing a new future and looked at Alm in shock. “What have you done?” Jeorge said in a panic. Alm just smiled at him, confused.

Gordin started to cluck at Alm. “Hey! Look at me, Kingy! _I’m_ tellin’ a story! You gave everyone else respect. _Now it’s my turn!!”_ The liquid courage was pulsating through his veins now. Alm was giggling as he gave Gordin now his undivided attention.

Gordin continued and had the energy of a rooster in a cock fight. “So, Marth went in Olbern Keep - we all know Caeda’s dead - And he’s like, attacking anything that moves. Marth has that damn straight face though when he’s doing it. I nearly peed myself when he told me to get moving. It’s a _creepy_ face. I hate it when the kid makes that damn neutral face.”

Jeorge staggered to his feet while balancing the glass he had. “G-Gordin, s-slow down. You’re going to confess something you’re going to regret. Please, listen to me.”

Gordin snapped back at Jeorge. “Sit back down, Jeorge! I’m _talkin’ here_! You think I’m too _little_ or _somthin’!?”_

Jeorge wheezed as he hunched over at the table, spilling his drink as he cupped his face. He was already seeing everything Gordin was about to say, and was powerless to stop it. Alm was just happy to have Jeorge laughing again, Cain was pleasantly baffled, and Draug was double checking the bottles he used to make Gordin’s drink so he could make this perfection again later.

Gordin continued to tell his story while waving his arms about. “So Marth runs up ahead - nearly gets trampled by armored men. I’m trying to line up my shot but then here comes Kris from behind me, running faster than a horse. I blink, and the guys are dead - and they’re already running down the next hall! I can hardly keep up!”

Gordin went to sip his empty glass, then banged on the table and shouted at Draug. “I need another!”

Draug continued to create a monster as he had another drink already prepped up for the green archer. Cain looked at Alm, both of their mouths were agape in a smile. “What _have_ you just done, Alm?” Cain asked, while Jeorge was still wheezing in the background.

Gordin could only stomach half of the shot before his face coiled up as if eating something bitter. He puffed out air from his puckered face before he kept going. “By the time I catch up to them they’re already in the heart of the base with the leader of the keep dead. Both of them drenched in blood and scrapes. Marth’s face is still just - A ROCK. Stone! But Kris skips past me and says _‘that was a good work out’!”_ Gordin said as he mimicked Kris’s voice and dainty waved his arms about. Draug was the first one to break by Gordin’s words as he smashed his fist on the table.

“Kris didn’t say _that!_ Caeda just _died!”_ Draug choked out while hacking out a lung.

Gordin pointed his glass at him, shaking it. “But shE _DID SAY THAT EVERY OTHER BATTLE!!”_

Gordin’s words shot through Draug, and the bear hunched over - dead - beyond his pained wheezing breathing. There was a break in the chaos, Gordin went to finish his drink. Cain looked down at his empty glass, looked at the table, shrugged, and mixed up another of what Gordin was having. Jeorge was taking off his mask as he was hissing out air - slowly recovering. Alm stood in the joyful man pit, happy he somehow turned the bad feelings into good ones.

Jeorge whimpered out to Alm. “S-Save us, please.”

“You got it!” Alm said confidently.

As Cain chugged another glass, both Gordin and Cain smashed their drinks on the table at the same time. The somewhat sober Alm walked up to Gordin and held his shoulders. He spoke with a weak lion’s roar. “Alright, macho man. Can I call you that?”

“Call me big macho man.” Gordin said with a straight face. The green archer’s words nicked Cain’s shoulder, and the bull started snorting.

“ _Mega_ Macho man. I got a request for you.” Alm said with a smile, letting go of Gordin’s shoulders.

“Hit me!” Gordin’s voice near cracked as he puffed out his mega macho chest.

“Who’s this Kris card? I _need_ to know who she is, now.” Alm asked with a beaming smile.

Jeorge smashed his fist on the table both Cain and him were leaning on. “That’s not saving us, Alm!”

The tipsy Cain whispered to Jeorge with a stupid smile tattooed on his face. “What’s Gordin gonna say??”

Jeorge was panting in pain as he held a finger up to Cain. “I-It’s too late Cain. Just wait. Just don’t- not- nothing. Please. I can’t”.

The drunk bull with a stupid smile looked over at Macho Chicken Gordin. Said chicken was pointing at Cain as he spoke. “Okay, so you know how he brought up the bridge story, the one he said before Draug came here, and how Marth held off Hardin’s forces too while we ran into the woods?”

“Yeah?” Alm said as he was looking in-between the anticipating Cain and the Macho Chicken.

“Bull. Nothing but bull!” Gordin announced with a straight face.

“Wait, what!?” Alm excitedly shouted. “Tell me more!”

Gordin sternly accompanied the lion’s curiosity. “So Hardin was at the end of the Chiasmir Bridge, north end! You know where Chiasmir is right?”

Alm nodded his head. “Yeah! We had to sail underneath the tall bridge from Valentia to get to Altea. Even the towers we scaled back in our war didn’t look as imposing as that bridge’s size” The visual memory then jogged his recollection. “Wait! That bridge is so narrow though. You’re telling me you fought a whole battle there, on foot?”

Gordin squeaked. “YEaH! So we were marching and we got trapped from the top and bottom! It was the only fast way home. Marth told us to charge ahead and try to push through, and hARDIN was there! Cain came in around then warning us! A-and MASTER was there. So like Draug held the back. We were getting flanked by pegasus knights. All of them were aiming for Marth. A small squad of us made it past the blockade at the mouth of the bridge and ran to the port city. That’s when I talked to my master who was guarding the city’s gate to get him on our side!”

Alm cut him off. “Wait, I thought Jeorge was a sniper, why would he guard a gate? Did he have a roost?”

“NoPE!” Gordin shouted with glee.

“I thought this Hardin was a smart guy. Why would he let an archer hold a valuable choke point?” Alm asked.

“Hardin was trying to get Marth to kill Jeorge, that’s why! I’m happy he didn’t even though he shot Caeda dEAD!” Gordin bounced in excitement.

Alm held an uncomfortable smileas he rolled his hand for Gordin to hastily continue. “What happened next?”

Gordin hopped right back into it. “Okay so, a bunch of us were still on the bridge though, fighting. But I was with Sir Jagen! He then had to strangle Marth just to drag him onto one of the port’s boats so he could escape the battle. I was there you know! I saw Jagen grabbing Marth by his face as, like, I was shooting some trailers down. One of em’ got past me! But the old crow punched that sucker RIGHT INTO THE WATER”

Alm had a worry scowl adoring his brow. _“That Jagen sounds a lot like my Sir Mycen.”_ He thought to himself.

Gordin continued. “So then Marth threw him on the boat and they both sailed off!”

Alm’s eyes focused on Gordin. “So, Marth was dragged off to escape against his will?”

“YEP!” Gordin chirped.

“Was Kris with them?” Alm asked.

“Oh no, she was back on the bridge actually.” Gordin casually said.

“Wait, _she_ was the vanguard to Hardin’s imperial army!?” Alm’s eyes widen.

Gordin nodded yes. “Huh-Huh! The lone one too!! She held the rear guard buying the whole army time to run out to the woods. She was the one who found us too and together we all hooked back up with Marth!”

Cain was blushing seeing his buddy be animated. He was steady calming down and forgetting about the future Jeorge foresaw. The ever loving reminder that was Jeorge scooted up behind Cain while both of them were still leaning on the table. “Not yet.” Jeorge whispered at the back of his ear. Cain’s neck coiled in as he was fighting back a giggle storm.

Alm was gawking at Gordin, struggling to imagine how strong Kris was. He scratched the top of his head. “Wh-What about all those masked men you had to fight?” Alm was going over some of the other big feats he heard Marth did by himself in the War of Heroes.

“They fought together while men were spilling in from the walls like flooding water!” Gordin clucked.

“What about the tale of the desert ambush I think that came about after that event? I heard he kicked off one of the riders from their own wyvern and rode the drake themselves! Did Kris do that and picked him up for the ride?!” Asked Alm excitedly.

Gordin slashed at the air with his free hand to dismiss such a tall tale. His voice cracked from how loud he was bocking. “Oh no no! Far from it!! They trailblazed ahead like the stupid butt faces they are and got ganked! Jagen kept screaming at them to slow down but no they never listen! It was my _mASTEr_ saved their hides! Jeorge is so friCKEN AWESOME ALM! I LOVE HIM!”

Gordin smashed his fist on the table which startled the Bear that was attempting to finally stand up. Draug landed down right on his back again - his lungs were starting to hurt for how long he’s been laughing. Jeorge was covering his blushing face with his elbows firmly planted on the table. Cain leaned over to whisper to the snake.

“Was that what you saw?” Cain asked, chuckling.

“No, it’s still coming up.” Jeorge said, completely playing off Gordin’s drunken confession.

Cain mouthed a curse of astonishment as he now firmly braced for the rising expectation the drunk Jeorge foresaw.

As the Bull and Snake whispered, Gordin was still going. “We had to set up camp in the middle of the desert just to patch them up. It SUCKED! A sandstorm blew in not long after that! I bet Marth still has that scar on his left leg. You should have seen it! It was so NASTY! Merric patched him up so I doubt the scar’s there any more. Merric’s _so_ good at magic, Alm. I also heard that Kris had a slash on her breasts too. I was pissed I didn’t get to see it! But Alm! Alm! You should have seen Kris’s face when she saw Marth’s leg. It was worse than when Caeda kicked the bUCKet!”

Alm’s face was blushing by the scandalous comment about Kris. Little did Alm know that Marth was experiencing second hand embarrassment as well overhearing this mess. Draug was in the fetal position underneath the table due to his laughing. Cain looked back at Jeorge with a smile to see if the ‘big moment’ came yet. Jeorge shook his head and encouraged Cain to just keep looking forward at Gordin. Draug was pulling himself back up to be on his knees while also taking off his mask so he could clean his rosy drenched cheeks.

Alm tried to push Gordin to the next war story. “What about when you guys scaled that mountain? Or going into the volcano? Did anything thrilling happen there? Well, outside of you going into a volcano that is.” Alm asked.

“Oh, the rest of Anri’s way? The whole army had to go through that. That was no problem. I think Kris passed out along the way? But that’s all I can remember.” Gordin dismissed with a hand wave.

“Why’d she pass out?” Alm asked.

“Kris was staying in the back in the volcano to make sure no one _else_ passed out while Marth guided everyone along. That’s why!” Gordin chopped at the air.

Alm was blinking at him struggling to find the words to say. “Marth could just march through that? Next you’re going to tell me that this Prince could stand still in earthquakes.”

Gordin hopped “OH-WIE!! _We_ did though! We did! We did in the first war! Marth could even sum _MON_ them!” Gordin corrected with a smile with his voice cracking again. “We had this magic orb thingy that Marth used. I nearly broke my leg when he used that thing, but he held me steady! He has an amazing grip, Alm! His range is incredible! Marth can reach you if you were on the other side of this table, _LENGTHWISE!_ ”

“Is that hyperbole?” Alm asked.

“NO!” Gordin said with childlike wonderment.

Most people would write that feat off as ‘Gordin being drunk’. But since Alm was drunk too, he believed the small green archer with all his heart. Alm jerked back in shock. “Okay, who killed Hardin then?! It had to be Marth! Vengeance and all that!” Alm begged Gordin to share.

“I don’t actually know! I’m sure she set up the shot - I can tell you that much! I wasn’t there. Both of them ran in there and raised all hell in the Timeless Palace. They were like a two-man army! Speaking of! _The_ army was running past us when I was able to march up to those gates. So they were TOTALLY beating anyone to the ground!!” Gordin spoke with utmost authority.

Alm scratched the back of his head. “Honestly, why even have this ball to help find him a date? The synergy they have sounds amazing, just as good as Caeda had with Marth! Just have Marth marry her!”

“NO!” Gordin crowed out, making Alm skitter back. “I WANTED TO ASK HER OUT TONIGHT!”

“YOU - _WHAT!?”_ Cain shrieked. Jeorge was crying. Draug now laid dead on the floor twice over.

The intoxicated chicken stared the bull in the eyes with ungodly intensity. “Have you SEEN her legs!? She could crack my skull with them! I want that in my life! I **NEED** that, Cain! I need to be crushed by Kris’s _big meaty thighs!!”_

Cain bursted out into laughter. Jeorge was already weeping - for experiencing this vision was better the second time around. The snake tried to wrap around Cain to try to make him not break the table from how hard the drunk Bull banged on it. Cain turned around and hugged Jeorge. Both held each other as they fell to the floor. Draug’s nasty hard drink cleared Cain and Jeorge’s mind’s completely. All they could remember that they were two old friends holding each other - needing each other. Nothing else mattered.

Gordin continued to Alm as if this magical moment wasn’t happening. “She’s amazing, Alm! She’s so strong! She’s best friends with Ryan, my baby brother! And like, she was the only one that made Marth smile after that mess! She’s so nice! And cute! And smart! And works hard! She works so HARD! And every damn shot I had with her backfired, Alm!! She-!“ Gordin cut himself off as he thought he heard Jeorge in pain. He looked down and saw Cain and Jeorge on the floor. He looked at Alm and suddenly sounded deathly scared. “Did I say something wrong??”

Alm hugged the tipsy chicken and petted their bold and daring feathered friend. “No. You just said something _beautiful”._

_\- - - -_

As the rejuvenated drunken merriment of the animals rang in the corner of the reception, a blue butterfly rested in its rose thorn bush. Its wings fluttered at the roars that carried in the chilly early evening wind - overhearing near all they sang. The blue blood, too, could still remember seeing the black swan fly. Yet now, the butterfly held onto their grove with all the gentle might that he could. His body bobbed along in the turbulence over what the blue blood overheard - just like how Caeda’s bloated corpse drifted along that chilly early morning river.

“ _Something ‘beautiful’, he said . . .”_ The Prince thought while the noose of war’s memories strangled him. Kris and her Prince were on a minor dance floor - swaying with other guests as a lone piano played. The soloist rivaled the orchestra which only catered to the main dance floor. Marth fought back every impulse to crush Kris’s hand while he eavesdropped on the zoo. Hearing such stories rapidly triggered him.

_“I lost her at the cost of winning the war… and worst yet, I could have prevented that second war. I should have married Nyna instead. I put Hardin in a loveless marriage. He was compromised, spurred on by darker thoughts that were forced upon him by that dark wizard. Hardin was possessed. The war wasn’t his fault. He was still my friend, yet in my anger, I didn’t even try to save him. Why did I kill him? My burning vengeance back then has left me so cold. And I could have saved everyone if I just took the princess’s hand instead. Caeda’s heart would have been crushed, but it’s better than death - I can testify to that._

_I wish I was a witch, Alm. I’d give up anything so that I’d have the power to undo every mistake I’ve done since I was born. My father and my mother would still be alive if I had a god’s strength back then. The only thing stopping me from hunting a way to become a witch now is because I can’t cast magic. Everything could be how it was when I was young if I had power. Why can’t I rewind time? I could have saved them, or at the very least, spared Caeda if Fate had the second war be her demise.”_

The walls were closing in. He was alone on the dance floor. Each surface played past memories, blurring the good with the bad. His hands were growing sweaty. His breathing grew uneven. Yet then he felt someone press against him. Marth looked down, and he saw Kris resting against his chest lovingly. She even corrected their tempo for him. The movie walls grew dim. Alone in their void together was him, _and her_. His hell was clashing with the normality he was dancing with. Seeing her, recognizing her, feeling her skin as he held her back, helped him slowly guide himself back to the waking world.

_“But if I did become Nyna’s husband, would I have still met you, Kris? Even after the war, you were irreplaceable. It’s why I traveled with you those six months alone instead with a whole entourage. Our time isolated during the war birthed some of my happiest of memories.”_

The recollection of their time together did make the Prince feel warm, but the turbulent winds of war’s past made that joy stutter. The butterfly was not strong enough to fly. He sought shelter in its orange flower garden.

_“Am I willing to find solace in all the lives that I’ve taken, just to say that I got to keep you as my friend at the end of all that?… I don’t know… I never really had ‘choices’ to make in my life. Even with Caeda, bless her heart, everything in my life has been thrusted upon me… I hope you truly love me, and didn’t settle because of a ‘post-war rush’. I hope I never forced you to be by me, Kris. I never got to choose to be a Prince. Beyond commanding my men in the war, the only ever real choice I made was choosing you to be my personal knight. And even then, the others were pressuring me to find a whole platoon of guards - let alone arguing with everyone to have only you.”_

The Prince would continue to battle with himself as the two slowly danced in this side crowd. The butterfly masked all his sorrow to the animals around them. The black feathers of the swan drifted away down the river, and to the oceans far beyond. The cold butterfly shivered as it refused to fly away from his flower grove. And the flowerbed never left his side as they swayed, as a Royal Guard should.


	16. A Boiling Scar that still Lingers

Unbounded by the rules of partner swapping that the social norms enforced for the main floor, there were plenty of side spaces where couples could dance alone together. The piano solo played, and the couples fluttered about. The white swan lovers swam around the butterfly and his grove. Marth and his last hope for normality drifted through the bird’s pattering wakes like a duo of twirling cherry blossoms. They danced as if it was their first.

His Button’s head was firmly on Marth’s cushion-like vest, which amplified the comfort provided by Kris’s favorite pillow. Her head snuggled into his pec - but Marth struggled to slow down. He couldn’t appreciate the current trust in him she was displaying.

 _“I can’t calm my thoughts. I’m feeling faint and so alone. I need to tell her, because maybe she could help me with this burden-filled choice. She is my confidant too after all. I can talk to her about anything.”_ Marth attempted to find a solution while thinking to himself.

The hand that guided her, for once, whittled with might. He retreated his sword hand to the other half of his chest and encouraged Kris to cling on. Kris’s multi-colored nails spread across her favorite bedding. His left hand firmly pressed on her back, with his fingers pushing on her skin in a heartbeat pattern. This movement was new to Kris. She stopped encouraging Marth to walk. The two now only swayed like the river garden’s flowers that were just outside.

“Are you okay?” Kris whispered only to Marth. She held her voice back from speaking while the piano played. Her volume was that tender and low.

Marth attempted to speak, but human guilt sealed his lips shut. His butterfly masked hid the pain she’d normally see. _“Naga, why must you smite my strength now? All I need is to whisper, I don’t need to scream. I just want to ask her if it’s okay for me to be happy even after all the people I’ve killed. That core thought is not sitting well with me.”_

The most direct way he could communicate to her was through touch. He shook his sword hand that still wrested it ontop of her guiding hand, but since it was forced it lacked the same urgency. The body tell was otherworldly, just like the milky way high above.

“…Ma-Kitty?” Kris halted herself from saying his name. There were too many around. Their pet name saved Marth there from suddenly being surrounded by lustful suiters. Yet still, to play safe, she disguised her voice with the piano’s melody.

Marth glanced away from Kris and looked at the dresses of the other women that danced around them. The dresses for a ball, for him, were such a rarity to see in the wild. He feared however if he stared at any of the men he’d mistake them for foes, and lose himself to darker memories.

Kris studied his face, foolishly thinking that her eyes could see past his blue armored mask. She awaited her Prince to look at her, as he turned his head away in thought. _“What am I even thinking? I do have the right to be happy. Even if it was war, and all that blood was spilled - I saved people. Caeda saved people too. It’s why everyone in my army joined my cause. To protect the weak and defenseless is worth every sacrifice. From the petty thieves to the nobles, no one should suffer like I have - and that is why I broke my body. I am a witch, for the people. Thank you, Alm, for your honesty. I look forward to meet you properly. Yet, why? Why do all my victories still only ring half hollow?”_

After staring at all the multicolors, he could finally stare at Kris. She was waiting for him, but had her ear firmly placed on his body. Kris’s butterfly ax edge was stabbing right into his chest. Marth could feel the sand pouring out of his ears, and the hidden scar along his left leg burned yet again.

_“…I think it rings hollow because I’m still so scared that Kris doesn’t trust me - as selfish as that sounds. It all started in the desert. I’ve could have handled that last raider, but she disobey and got caught in the wyvern’s mouth. I thought she was going to be crushed in half like how I discovered my mother’s body. I still haven’t thanked Jeorge for shooting her down and saving her - my left leg’s scar distracted me that much.”_ He thought on, still unaware the dramatic irony of Kris’s actions before they walked into the ball. Just because both of them were in a relationship does not magically fix the fact that they’re both very dense.

Marth managed to hum an off key moan, which caught Kris’s attention. She pulled back her head, and pondered about that type of sound - she wasn’t sure what she did wrong. She wasn’t doing anything that was risqué. As he left her confused why her kitty was suddenly purring in pain, Marth continued to think while they swayed in place.

_“Our travels have been fine after the war, but ever since we came home things started to change. You didn’t trust me when we talked to Dennis - but I could deduce that up to you doing your knightly duties. Yet I crushed Kris’s hand. And Ever since then, you’ve been acting so differently. It’s still,_ _you,_ _I know. But why does it feel she’s wearing a mask when she flirts with me?_

_I know it’s you when I watch you study diplomacy at the dead of night. I watch you training from my balcony with out questioning that it’s your passion. Even when we trained to dance, you loved being physical. You were excited for every session just like how we don’t hold back in our spars. When we shared meals back during the war you stood on guard - but always talked with me like we were just camping. And when we came home, our talks over our food have been sweeter than ever before._

_Yet why when we sing love to one another you act so differently? You standing outside my door partly disrobed? This hole in your dress? ‘Master’?_ _‘Kitty?’_ **_Really?_** _… You act similar to Caeda sometimes, and it’s bone chilling. I don’t know if you trust me to love the_ _real you_ _._

_I wish you’d just take off your mask without me asking, if you are wearing one that is. If I did ask, I’d fear I’d kill that side of you. Even if you did it for enjoyment, and genuine love for me, you’ed stop your whole magical masquerade because you don’t want to hurt me. You’d do anything for me, Kris. I adore you and loath you for that. I love and hate you so much.”_

Kris’s little hamster wheel brain was at full throttle trying to think of a way to comfort her pompous kitty. The only motive she could come up with was that her mask was jabbing into her poor cat’s body. Smiling wide at her conclusion, she did what she could so that they could be both comfortable. She let go of Marth’s bicep and twisted her mask around.The butterfly mask was now hooked on the back of her head as she planted her head back in his chest to conceal her identity. Her hands were back in the proper dancers positions - her fingertips kissing his bicep, and her other hand beckoned to be guided again.

“Does this feel better for you?” Kris’s whisper grind against the soloist’s song so that he could hear her better.

The howling winds of the river’s garden blew past the many guests to fly to only Marth. The draft licked the entire length of Marth’s hidden leg scar and his spine. As the shiver invaded every part of his body, he felt Fate use the winds to laugh into his twitching ears. He stared at the floral clips that bounded her ponytail. He thought on, doubting the existence of the mighty Naga themselves

_“Did she_ _just_ _do that?”_ Marth was gawking at his many broken reflections and her mundane unmasking.

His nervous eyes glanced where they could to see what guards may have recognized her. The statue knight mimics that lined the walls were searching, but they couldn’t even identify either of them. An ounce of confidence pumped in his system. No one knew where the Prince was outside of being present. No one but a select trusted - or used - individuals knew he was dancing _with her_.

His shock dove straight into validation, and then utter humbleness. _“To unmask in such a place, and count on only myself to conceal her?_ _Even with all the errors I’ve done that hurt you… You still trust me…”_

The hesitation in Marth’s verbal response made Kris think that she was once more off her mark. She reclined back to put back on her mask, but Marth’s hands were swifter. He seized her right hand, and then slowly guided it to rest upon his steady heart. His other claws clenched her hair, only to softly suggest she’d nuzzled her back into her favorite pillow with some rhythmic poking. A smile grew on his face as he felt the vibrations of her moans of satisfaction dissipate into his padded vest. He hooked his left nails on the sides of her hair and pawed at the strands. Her hair slid over her glittering earrings and caressed the sides of her cheeks.

Marth thought to himself as he was freeing her hair. _“I know you’d think of this as a random chance that this just happenchance, Kris. But for me that is a sign from Naga. I’ll work harder to not forget that you do trust me, even when you act so outlandish.”_

Marth bent over and whispered to the top of her ear. The drive to simply dance with her overpowered the curse that once made him mute.

“Twenty-two, one, seven, eight, one, one, eight, seven, one. Loop.”

Kris nodded her head, remembering each individual dance sets they practice by their numbers. Marth extended out his guiding hand, and Kris clasped his. his left hand that would be on her back was now shielding her precious eyes. Both continued their stationary sway as they awaited the end of the current song before they began their set. While they waited, they hastily made last-second changes to her mask placement and hair.

Once the piano soloist signaled this side crowd to tread the new measure, the Prince guided them both in full stride. The patrons whom where there during the lasts sets did not initially give up their cattle tracks to Marth for how long the Prince’s moves have been stale - or even idle. The dancers who only joined in this song however immediately recognized the superior stride of the power couple. They surrendered the right of way, giving more room for Marth to guide his beloved dance partner along. Regardless of the interaction, Marth’s improvisation and Kris’s hyper-reflexes allowed them to avoid tripping over any blunder. Marth found full serenity as they executed their dance. A simple mission clears the head for the simple calling.

A silent crowd of awestruck lovers gathered around to watch the white caped stranger and the orange walking garden. This was just a taste of what was to come - a demo before Marth knew everyone will eventually watch them in the center dance floor. Kris was dancing blind still with her face firmly pressed into his chest. The courtly sheeple murmured while many gawked at her perfect foot work. The patterns of twirls and strides were on a repeating motif - common for this ball dance. But to do it with no eyes was a feat few could master. The changing tempo of the execution of their dance added another visual complexity to the moving painting they were performing. All was pristine until Marth felt Kris escaped his grasp.

Kris took the guiding role during a resting note and forced him to twirl her. He held only one hand, both their arms fully extended out. He was forced to trust her. During this swift motion, she put back on her mask. She gave him a coy grin. He shot her a smug smirk.

Marth tugged Kris back, which she twirled while doing so. The frills of her dress spiraled and swayed just like the flaps of her old practice dancer’s garb. Unrestrained, they went back into their dancing spar. This time, however, they can execute every move. Every dip, every reverse hold, every skip and jog was all controlled by the ever-changing melody. Both of them didn’t realize they strayed further away from the patterns that Marth instructed them to rehearse.

The butterflies fluttered about to no sound before this fated night. Only raw discipline, the vocal call out, or the snapping of fingers allowed either of them to dance at varying tempos - or anything even resembling a rhythm for that matter. This mix of power to dance, yet lack of direction, made them the perfect empty vessels. Both of their bodies were now filled with the soul of music. They forgot everything they learned, and simply dance to the rhythm that their once empty souls commanded.

They now only worked on muscle memory - they were reactionary. Their striking actions made them appear sometimes as adversaries. Yet that bold contrast strengthens their unity. How they held each other was literal - physical - poetry. Any missteps because of their impulsiveness had a swift recovery. They twirled a living tapestry. He yearned for this bright night to be etched forever in their dark history. He danced with confidence and loved himself again - because of her. The song was not over, but his shiny soul predicted an opening. He went for the finishing touch - just like in her fantasy.

Marth snagged her in a dip and purposely made her trip. Her feet skid up as she let out a gasp. Her head turned to Marth and did not impulsively reach out to him like on the night of their first kiss. She entrusted him this time that he’d catch her. He did so, skillfully, and held her. He supported both their body weights on his secretly scar-riddled leg. His foundation shook, but not as much as his heart trembled for her. While her mouth was still agape, he thrust forward to her face.

The impact was vile, but the pullback was mild. The kickback made her cling onto Marth’s first war’s battered buckle. She tugged on the badge once for stability, and twice to pull him closer. The two twisted their faces into one another while they passionately kissed. The sound of her pompous kitty’s purrs muffled the applause and green gasps around the both of them. The final note of the song was not the piano man - but of clapping and her enthralled moan.

He pulled back his lips that did not want to part. He grinned at her. Then tugged her up - and back down to earth. “Was that a little much”? Marth asked.

His little button was shaking, the applause _was_ a bit too much for her. She turned her head swiftly into his chest, and plucked out her fan to further cover her. Reflexively she then reached for his cape to conceal her face. There was no way she could hide her embarrassment. There wasn’t much audio to go on from Kris, outside of Marth hearing her let out another little purr.

Marth tugged the cape to pull her body ever so closer. “Let’s walk it off, do you think that’d help?” He asked, and his smile grew larger when he watched her frantically nod yes. The two soldiers marched from the little crowed that gathered. Marth used his body to penetrate through the human wall. As Marth guided Kris to the river gardens far off to the north of the grand hall, the Moon who was watching them from the third story balcony sighed - her spyglass sights’ firmly tracking on them.

“I hope my baby brother finds someone who _clicks_ like those two do. Granted, hopefully not with a woman who’s dressed for a shift in a brothel like _that one was._ ” Elice thought wishfully out loud.

The glittering Moon of the ball looked over not the river gardens outside, but from the highest third floor balcony. On the second balcony was full of her students playing with Arlen and Merric, while the first floor was exclusively for the staff. The third floor did have staff occupying it too, but the servants left a zone around the princess - like a coral reef’s inhabitants parting the way from a predator.

Elice’s dress was form fitting and sparkled like a shimmering silver fish - much like the aquatic life that was farmed in in the garden’s waters. The mermaid dress fanned out with an elegant tail that trailed on the floor. A hint of Merric’s wind blessed her dress to make it practical for tonight. Her exotic outfit would bend and twist out of the way of anyone who’d attempt to step on it. When she’d walk, she’d quite literally swim through the schools with a shark like tail that trailed behind her in the air.

For now though, she remained high to the sky, searching for her brother in this event. Herfull face mask of the moon magically hovered to the left of her head. The moon mask had a carved face into it with eyes yellow as sand, and teeth clenched. A chiseled bolder nose protruded out of the masks face, and its enchanted eyes looked to anyone watching the princess. The bewitched mask’s stare would make one feel as if they were crushed by the moon’s very mass.

With her mask hanging to the side of her face, that freed Elice’s hands to use a decorative spyglass to hunt for her brother. Adoring her delicate fingers were rings of plenty. Her earrings, bracelets, and neckless were adorned with plentiful of jewels. Each accessory had not a diamond in them however, the rocks on display were all Calling Stones.

The stones would occasionally light up then dim. The glow of the fire rocks made the sparkles of her dress glisten. Near all the knights of Altea spoke to her during this event, and the master wizard effortlessly held the conversations within the subconscious of her mind. Elice aura was as looming and omnipotent as the ever-watching moon in the heavens above. And her wardrobe was as intensely bedazzling, and gorgeously eye-snatching as an anglerfish.

The moon mask that she wore shifted its eyes when it detected a new stranger approaching her. It orbited to the back of the princess’s head and stared directly into the newcomer’s eyes that was attempting to approach the princess’s proximity.Though the eyes on the back of Elice’s head were just for show, she was alerted that someone was approaching her by the mask’s movement. The princess turned around to look who was coming to her. Elice saw no one at her eye level, so she looked down at the red carpet.

Tiki was sheepishly approaching the Moon. Her mask was gold, as too the spiked crown that sat on her long green ponytail. Her child bride’s-like dress shimmered like a genuine star. Tiki looked to be a proper princess. Tiki held her dragonstone in both her little hands and twisted the rope that tied the stone to her neck. She looked up worryingly at the imposing Elice with her big green eyes.

The edge of Elice’s glare softens swiftly. “Oh, darling little Tiki! What are you doing up here?” Elice asked. Tiki felt safer and walked closer to Elice till they were well in hugging reach. Elice first reached out and petted the little girl’s head. “The daughter of Naga shouldn’t be glum and alone on such a wonderful night. Shouldn’t you go back down the stares and try to make a new friend with our students? I know Marth would love that very much.”

Tiki shook her head as she rocked on her little blue heels. “But I was worried about Mar-Mar. Is he done making a new friend yet?” Elice’s eyes widen as she pulled back her hand. Tiki continued. “I _really_ want to dance with him. I haven’t seen him in oh so very long since I went to school while he had to do a lot of work. Is there anything I can do to help? I want Mar-Mar to be happy again.”

There was something about the innocent words of the special dragonkin child that rattled Elice in a painful way. To Elice she knew Marth meant something special to Tiki, but to hear how powerful she is juxtapose to the little girl in front of her was bone chilling. Then thoughts of her brother not being happy started to chip at Elice’s heart. Tiki saw that Elice was about to fight back tears. Tiki let go her dragon stone neckless and jumped at Elice. The princess staggered back as the god’s child hugged her knees.

“I’m so sorry! Please don’t cry! That’s why I want to help Mar-Mar! So that you don’t have to cry any more!” She said as Tiki rubbed her head into Elice’s shoulder.

Elice slowly lowered back down her hand and held Tiki’s head closer. “You are very good at reading emotions, Tiki…” There was a delay in her speech.

“I won’t let go until you feel better! And I won’t _go-go_ until I know how I can help more!” Tiki boldly announced.

Elice softly scoffed as she patted Tiki’s back. Elice then beckoned a servant to grab her a chair before slowly pulling Tiki off her body. “That hug did help. Thank you, Tiki. How about you keep helping me and look for Marth with me?”

Tiki let out a gasp as she was wiggling in Elice’s arms. With a beaming smile she hopped off and awaited on what to do. Elice turned around to gaze upon the guess, with the tail of her dress drifting over Tiki’s head with the use of its magic. Elice tapped the chair as she pulled out her telescope. Tiki scurried onto the chair and stood onto of it so that she could look over the railing better.

“Do you know what he looks like? I thought I saw him dancing.” Tiki said as she was cupping her eyes to squint at the crowds. She then stop and watched the mighty Elice raise up a long golden staff to her eye and look at the people. Tiki’s eyes sparkled in fascination at Elice’s serenity and dedication to her post. “And what’s that you’re using?” Curious Tiki ask.

“It’s a spy glass. It allows you to see very far away.” Elice said as she was scanning over the crowds again. “When I need a break I’ll let you use it to look for Marth for me. Can you wait your turn?”

“Oh, I _love_ sharing! Thank you so much!” Tiki’s blush was burning on her face since she was overjoyed she got to help Marht’s big sister - and more importantly - wasn’t rejected in helping look for Marth. Tiki took a second to sit on the fancy chair the maid brought and scoot closer to the railing.

Elice continued with responding to Tiki’s first question. “No, thank _you_ Tiki. I told each knight to inform me when he was spotted. I thought I saw him too actually, but my brother has been strangely secretive with his appearance. It’s as if he didn’t want his attire to be rumored about. Yet one of the guardsmen said he’s finally here, however, that news was delayed because one of the knights at the post caused a ruckus - so I missed his entry. It’s frustrating but…I’m managing.”

“I saw Mar-Mar right in his bedroom when I came, but It was too dark to see him too well. He didn’t have any of that magic torchlight in his room…” Tiki sighed looking down, ashamed she wasn’t too helpful. She sucked in her gut, forcing the bad feelings inside her down, and found renewed resolve. She looked back up to Elice while huffing from her nose. “Did they tell you what he looked like?”

“They said he had a blue suit on and a white cape. I _thought_ I saw him dancing with someone already…But that fine gentlemen seemed to be very familiar with their woman. It couldn’t have been him. I’m thinking that perhaps he used a potion to change his hair color, that’s my theory.” Said Elice while still searching for her brother.

“Why would it be bad if Mar-Mar new the girl already? He’s making a new friend, right?” Tiki asked, not understanding what ruled out Elice’s suspicion of the dance between the rose and the butterfly that they both saw. Elice blushed as she was trying to process how to describe the finishing touch to this little star child.

After a delay, she chose just to be blunt about it. “They were kissing, and that’s not like my brother to do with a stranger.”

Elice stayed focused on looking over the crowds while Tiki thought about that moment. Her silence was making Elice question it, and turned to look at Naga’s daughter. Tiki was hunched in the big chair, her eyes watery with tears. Elice collapsed her spyglass in her hands and looked down at Tiki’s. “Tiki?” Elice asked.

“Do you think Mar-Mar kissed Cae-Da before she had to go?” Tiki said with her eyes getting hazy and cold. The color washed away from Elice’s face as Tiki brought her own fists up to her eyes to block her tears. Tiki pressed down on her mask, as if it’d make them stop flowing out. “Cae-Da would have loved this party…She would have loved it very…very…very much so… Mar-Mar must be so lonely.”

As the child cried, the moon was locked into orbit. Elice watched Tiki break down slowly more into harder sobs. Elice patted her body, before she felt one of her random calling stones. She clenched it tight as she thought into the call. _“Merric, help me. I don’t know Tiki too well.“_

There was a smack she heard from the red carpeted staircase. Elice turned around and saw Merric slammed into the wall as he ran up the steps to their level. Compared to the shimmering moon, the only thing breathtaking of Elice’s husband’s suit was an equally enchanted and detailed sun mask that orbited Merric’s head. The rays of the sun spun, and the carved expression it had was as calming as a forest stroll.

However, Merric was not calm. He pushed off the wall and looked to his silver fish wife. To ensure that her husband didn’t faint from overexerting himself she went to ensure to him that she was alright. Elice stood up, turned to face him, and held her hands in a clasping prayer. The stance for her was so common to do - but with how her figure fitting dress, sparkles, and wishing white tail, and dazzling smile focused solely on him made the wind mage’s breath fly away.

What did ground the mage was hearing the sniffling of Tiki who escaped his watchful eye yet again. Merric fixed his suit jacket as he came and gave his warmest smile to Elice before he gave that warmth to Tiki as he knelt down to her level. “What’s wrong Tiki?” Merric asked.

“Mar-Mar… No one is with Mar-Mar!” Tiki said as she took off her mask. She dropped it on her lap and was rubbing her eyes. Her tears were plopping on her dress. “Mar-Mar’s been so lonely, and he hasn’t found a new friend yet! I can’t see him till he finds a new friend! I could have seen him if Cae-Da was here! I don’t want to go to school any more Mer-Mer! I wanna stay right here!”

Merric reached out to Tiki and stroked the tears away with the cuff of his sleeves. His voice was as soothing as listening to the rustling of leafs. “There, there… You only went away because Marth couldn’t watch you after we were done fighting. You get to stay here now. Do you understand?”

Tiki was sniffling, but nodding her head in agreement. Merric rubbed Tiki’s wet cheek to encourage her to look at him. The little girl however did not initially budge as he continued. “Marth _hasn’t_ been alone, Tiki. He had all of us by his side. Caeda would want us to be there - and we never left him.”

Tiki shook her head. “But I can’t dance with him because he hasn’t found a new friend. That means he is alone, Mer-Mer. He’s been alone because he has no friends.”

Elice’s clasped hands were starting to tighten upon themselves as a vail of unease started to rock her soul. _“I need to look out for my brother, and get the knights to steadily push good candidates to him. But first I need to find him. I can trust Merric to handle Tiki,”._ While Merric comforted Tiki, Elice flipped back open her spyglass to try to locate Marth. Unknowing to her, he was far out of her sights, and in the river gardens due north of the grand hall. Any standing guards that she asked through the Calling Stones she scrutinized if they claimed they saw him dance with an orange dress woman based off of the description they heard.

Merric continue to steady the shaking Tiki. “But what about Kris? Kris has been with Marth ever since you left. Marth hasn’t been left alone since you left.”

Tiki looked at Merric, and the two locked their green eyes. “You mean that?” Tiki asked.

Merric’s sun mask orbited in view as Merric nodded his head. Both the smile from the sun’s carving and Merric’s warmed Tiki’s confidence back up. “Of course. When they came back Kris told me everything they did - and they’ve been doing a lot of school work. They’ve been doing a lot of work too since they came home. They’ve been both making time, for you.”

Tiki still had a little said pout as she was taking big deep breaths to keep calm, just like Merric taught her during the wars they fought together. Merric stroked her head as he continue to kneel at her level. “Just like you had a lot of homework from Alren to help you learn how to read and write, Marth has been doing the same with Kris. This ball is to help him find someone to help him with his work. It’s an adult event for adult work, just as much as it is a party. But you know he will dance with you! Marth will never let you down.”

“But what if I fall asleep? I don’t feel tired right now, but it’s really past my bed time. I don’t want to fall asleep. I really want him to find a new friend, but I really _really_ want to dance with him!” Tiki’s face started to blush not just from her tears.

Merric’s smile grew. “If that happens then you’d be very lucky, I’d think.”

The response made Tiki’s head perk up as Merric continued; “When you wake up, everyone will be gone, and Marth can dance with you as much as you want. You may not have everyone watching, but Marth would love to spend time with you. He’s been practicing how to dance for tonight, and I know he’d love to show you his moves.”

Yet now Tiki’s responce will disrupt Merric’s flow. She did not smile more or even grow a bit gitty. Tiki instead grew neutral and in control. “So we have a back up plan?” Tiki askedauthoritatively while she emulated someone she lovingly knows.

Merric pulled back his hand as his eyes were widening at Tiki’s neutrality. That body language and exact wording. The behavior zapped him of all focus. Not knowing what to say to her, he acted his part and responded properly to her. Tiki’s smile grew back to its playful self. She thanked him with many words, and looked back at the crowds - chatting her head off about something. Elice engaged in the conversation Tiki was suddenly sparking too about her travels. Merric started the fire that helped Tiki feel comfortable, and Elice carried that torchlight forward as they both looked for Marth.

None of it reached Merric’s ears. Merric pulled himself up by Tiki’s chair and held the head of the seat to steady his swaying. His eyes blankly looked over the crowds, only seeing smears of colors and lights. The commotion of the crowds sounded like the chaos of the battle.

The sprint up the stairs was now giving him elevation sickness and Merric started to stagger more. The hight they were at and the roars of the crowds were bringing more memories of war and thunderous dragon kin. Merric’s nail’s dug into the woodgrain of Tiki’s chair. Merric’s sun mask was about to escape orbit. He remember these signs. Merric needed to ground himself.

He first used the same breathing tricks he taught Tiki and Marth- yet to his anguish - his mind couldn’t fully get over the war. He attempted to guide his memories down similar paths. Like a stray feather caught in a storm, he was eventually drifting back down to the ground.

He thought about why these rushing smears of memories triggered. The expression that the child mimicked where of Marth’s that he’d expressed frequently in the latter half of the War of Heroes. Marth’s sudden manic professionalism to make unbeatable backup plans that were seemingly unrealistic was birth by Caeda’s death. Unknowing to Merric, said skills were used to again to have Marth sneak into this very ball. With the thought of Marth however, Merric could use the terrifying sights and sounds of the orange light ball to his advantage at last.

The orange of the ball and all its moving parts just made Merric think about Kris’s Royal Guard tunic. The sounds still claimed Merric, but yet that orange tunic wasn’t too far off to pull him off the ground - just as the blue night’s butterfly was there to save the mage in many battles before. To smite the sounds of combat from overtaking his mind anymore, he forced himself to think about Kris’s voice. The war still tainted his direction; Merric thought about when Kris first day back home. She checked in on him when Merric’s own Night Terrors made him follow the Royal Guard out of his own classroom preventing him from instructing his beloved class.

_“That was a holdover, wasn’t it?”_ Merric echoed Kris’s words in his thoughts. Kris’s words guided him to conjure a posable solution to Tiki’s mimicry of Marth. His thoughts, just like his body in battle, were compelled to complete the followthrough. _“_ _‘Always travel in pairs’, that’s what Jagen and my Grandfather taught me”._

Merric’s mind held the ending thought, much like one must commit to an attack to ensure an enemy’s death. He felt emptiness, beyond that lone thought of isolation. The wind mage lifted his head and looked back out in the crowds. As the Moon and Tiki chatted besides him, he walked to the balcony’s railing and clasped on the elegant wooden railing. His hands were frail, but for once - the fear for Marth compelled Merric’s gripping hands to make the wood creek with his might.

Compelling the winds, he made his mask snag the back of his sea-foam green hair. Merric’s heart was pounding, and that pain empowered a horrifying lie; a comrade was left alone in these crowds. Merric’s childhood friend didn’t have anyone by their side tonight.

Merric sucked in air into his mighty lungs - his body was acting without his cognitive thoughts. The Masquerade’s gimmick of voice filtering was now partly inside the master sage’s organs. The specks piled in his lungs like sands in an hour glass. Using his own body as a conduit for the magic to channel through, Merric could see every particle of magic that fluttered in the winds. The magic faint sparkles that seemed scattered about to the masses were now solidified in Merric’s eyes. For an unrepeatable few seconds, The Wind Sage’s eyes saw a shifting sheet of white over the crowds like thick powdered snow.

_“If I can make him flinch, right now, then I can know where he is.”_ Merric’s body evoked that hypothesis. He reached into his pocket - gripping his Calling Stone.

Marth requested everyone not to contact him tonight unless it was a life-or-death emergency. The Hero King’s words commanded respect from the foreigners. The leaders of the seven kingdoms surrendered their supreme control to the Altean Prince’s authority. The knights, and family, would respect anything ask of them from Marth’s loving reputation. Yet Marth’s childhood friend was the only man alive at this hour who dared disobey his guidence. The terror of war lingers, no matter the day.

Merric needed to control all the variables they could from this impromptu experiment. The microseconds were passing. His control on this scan was starting to decay. The orange of the ball guided him to a solution; Kris, yet again. He recalled the action his students ranted and raved about that Kris showed off on her first day home. _“Marth, Dolphin Jump.”_ Merric ordered the Prince through his Calling Stone.

The crowds continued to chatter. The snow melted. And not even a fish from the river’s gardens chose to do a hop to humor the lad. Merric’s hands hurt, so they eased their grip from the wooden balcony’s railing.

The mild sadness that his experiment failed him made a pitiful frown wash on Merric’s sandy face. Yet those waters rapidly receded. A tsunami of terror was about to engulf him.

_“What stopped you from jumping?”_ Merric thought’s echoed as he stared at the blinding sun chandelier. He foolishly looked down with the same raw panic and worry that he had _that day -_ after fighting through hoards of desert bandits. The screaming gale whooshed past his ears with how fast he stared down at the crowds and the crimson carpet. The orange sands smeared across Merric’s eyes.

The winds were howling after the raiders’ ambushes. Marth fought on limping on a torn leg as the rest of the army caught up to surround them. At the end of the conflict a sandstorm swept in not long after, forcing the army to hunker down as the winds cried. The mages could not best nature, but they aided with the swift building of an impromptu fort from blankets and leather. The exterior of the canopy was crude, but it bought the army enough time to build their proper tents as the winds washed them by. They awaited nightfall so that the stars can guide them down Anri’s Way, to victory of the war.

The turbulent yowling of the tempest masked the murmuring whimpers of Marth. He laid alone in a tent with Merric who mended him. The sand slid across the triple laired tent and was shushing the star and savior Hero King to ease his screaming. The bellowing rumbles of the wind however reminded them all that Anri’s Way had much more in store for them.

Marth still wore his military blue attire - armor still on his chest and shoulders, fully clothed. The side of his left leg had a flesh wound from the to of his hip to the lip of his boot. His thigh was torn open. Blood dripped into the shifting sands - red as the carpet Merric was standing on.

The blue robed mage held onto his prized wind tome and borrowed the chaotic energy from outside. The ample amount of natural wind cursing around them acted as its own magical conduit along with Merric’s tome. Lifting individual sand grains that burrowed into Marth’s flesh was a _breeze._ Merric flicked the crimson and orange beads to the side. At the same time, he used the winds to command a potion bottle to fly up from his internal pockets up his sleeve. As he was uncapping the potion, Merric was eyeballing Marth’s left leg.

“I think we need to cut off your clothing, Marth. I can’t see the whole wound.” Merric said as he was struggling to get the cap off.

Marth reached over his body and coiled the tear around his right hand. The trembling Prince then yanked his right arm back underneath his body as he laid on his side. The sound of his ripping trousers startled Merric - which gave him the surprised strength to pop open the potion bottle. Both the men stayed still, with Marth still curled up on his right side and Merric trying not to drop the glass bottle. Marth craned his sweaty head up from his ground mat to see his handy work. His bloody thigh was fully exposed, with the rest of his pant’s leg hanging at the end of his brown leather boot.

“Wow.” Marth said in soft awe and in-between his gasping.

The blunt astonishment made both of the young men shush out laughter. To cope with the pain, Marth wrapped his pant’s leg around one of his hands. Merric crawled along his knees to get closer, and screwed the open potion in the sands so it wouldn’t spill over. Merric took the time to clean the rim of more debris from Marth’s leg using the winds.

“Was that another one of your parlor tricks to spice up the sword routine?” Merric said as he cleaned the wound.

Marth looked at his bloody pants leg huffing through the pain. There was an impish crooked grin on his face. “I guess it is now. I had no idea I was that strong!” The novelty of the clean rip brought was numbing the discomfort.

Merric flicked his wrist like a magician to pull out a rag from inside his long robe. He gently patted the excess blood so he knew the exact size of the wound. “Marth, you’ve smash rocks like one would smash an egg.”

The anticipation of the potion coming was making Marth coil the pant scrap tighter around his hand to the point where blood circulation was being cut off. Still, he was holding a smile as he stared at the waving wall of his tent. “Yes, but - Clothing’s different, Merric! It’s woven together.” His breathing grew weaker, as to his smile surrendering to sadness. “Like we were.” The winds overpowered Marth’s mumble.

What snapped him out of the spiral was feeling the winds now constantly kissingthe parameter of his thigh to keep the liquid from spilling out.Marth nodded his head as he was taking massive gasps of hair to prepare himself for the potion. He shook his head a few more times, but nothing came. Marth looked over at Merric, who was hesitating from pouring the potion on his wound. “What’s wrong?” Marth asked.

Merric cautiously covered the lip of the potion bottle as he weakened the wind barrier around Marth’s leg. “Should I ask Draug for help?”

Marth narrowed his eyes at Merric who continued; “I’m positive he could make a drink that’d knock you out from the stash he _secretly_ keeps in his armor. And I do mean that literally.”

Marth held a harden scowl of pent up hate aimed at their childhood friend. “Do you think I’m scared of pain?”

The wind barrier around Marth’s thigh puttered out as Merric lost all concentration seeing that jungle of rage suddenly manifest in front of him. Marth curled back down and bit down on the fabric balled around his fist. “Do it, Merric.”

There was a delay which made Marth’s head nearly turn back around. But feeling the wind barrier come back around his gaping flesh hole made Marth curl up yet again. “Brace yourself” Merric warned.

No amount of preparation of the mind could fortify Marth’s iron walls. The acidic potion’s brew was being poured on his wound. His skin popped and boiled. Marth sucked in his lungs. The liquid level rises. His muscles started to foam. Marth’s nails dug into the sand. His sweat was melting. The bone was sizzling. Moister sinking. Skin oozing. Screaming.

Marth did not scream in combat, nor even when giving orders frequently. For many of the veterans in the army, this was the first death scream they’ve heard since the War of Shadows. For the new comers, like Kris, this was their traumatizing horrific first. His screams rivaled nature’s wrath outside and rattle the wood poststhat supported the very tents. But pain is only temporary.

Marth shook as he laid on his sweat soaked mat. Much of the potion was sucked up by his body and new skin was generating where there was an opening. The surface of his leg looked like a fried egg slowly becoming solidified - with all the random pops included. This was only step one. Merric went to grab from his cloak of tricks for the next step - but then Marth’s husk voice cut in.

“Am I stable? Will it get infected?”

“You are, and it won’t rip if you keep staying still. But if I don’t move on, the scar would be harder to remove with healing spells. There’s still some more to do.” Merric softly instructed.

Marth kept huffing for air with sand getting into his lungs. It caused him to cough after talking. “Go to Dame Kris, and tend to her wounds.”

Merric sympathetically smiled at their shriveled friend. “She was the one that encouraged me to come to you first. And no, she has Father Wrys to help her.”

Marth groaned. “Go to Dame Kris. I do not trust her.” Marth was able to croak out.

An attentive frown shot across Merric’s face. The wind mage perked his head up at Marth. All that there was to hear was the moaning of the wind and the heavy panting from their general. To reject medical aid, to push on so far ahead, to not trust his friends. these were things that Merric was not used to seeing Marth do.

“Mend her of any scar she may have. I do not trust Wrys nor her.” Marth forced his vocal cords to say more fluently.

Merric furrowed his brow as he spoke from his heart. “As a member of your army I’ll do as you wish. But as your friend I can’t _just_ leave you.”

Marth did not have the spine to keep pushing Merric away, but chose to say nothing more. Marth hoped that the winds that blew outside would shoo them away. Master of the winds that he was, he was able to brave the drafts that were able to slip through the cracks.

“Is everything alright? The Marth I remember would trust their friends. You’ve known Wrys longer than I have. Of course he’d heal her.” Merric asked as he walked around Marth and sat by his head.

The star and savior only responded with a heavy winded sigh. His shoulders finally gave way, and let the sands start to suck in his bodyweight. Merric’s wind casting hand started to shake in anticipation.

“I have never seen you act this way before, Marth. A small ambush like that is something you’d handle flawlessly, too. I’ve seen you leap and mount enemies like that before.” Merric said.

Marth curled his head subtly away, which only raised worry in Merric’s voice. “What stopped you from jumping? Was it because Kris was there?”

A bold pitched laugh came from Marth. The heroes body shook. The laugh made Merric’s heart stutter in its functioning. After a lull, the prince went to speak. “I wasn’t expecting to hear that double entendre.” Marth apologized for his laughing.

Merric tilted their body, unable to see Marth’s smiling expression through his dripping bangs. “Double on-what?” Merric asked.

Marth’s eyes weren’t visible, but his hollowed smile was. “Double meaning.” Marth shortly clarified.

Merric was shifting in the sands around the still laying Marth, yet he couldn’t read his eyes - only Marth’s glass smile. Marth however could see Merric through his grainy hair. The Hero King made no effort to lift his head nor spared the lung to respond any further.

Merric lightly balled his fists on his lap. The weight of the double meaning settled fast in the well read mage. “Marth, you can’t be serious.” Merric spoke upon the lingering context.

Marth’s leg still sizzled and boiled, and Merric’s on target poke made the context’s bubble pop. The glass smile the Prince had shattered, but still stayed standing. He dug himself deeper into his mat and rested his weary eyes. Yet as normal, no sleep claimed him.

Merric continued. “When did this come about? You can’t be serious. Gotoh is waiting for us at the end of Anri’s Way. He’s going to help us win this war. I can understand feeling helpless about not being able to head to Altea now, but we saved our home before. We can do it again! We just need to keep pushing through this and try harder. We can’t give up here.”

Watching Marth be unresponsive only made Merric grow more panicked. “I only just came after the masked Legion attack, but, whatever you are feeling, it will pass. And if it doesn’t then I’m here to help you. But I can’t help if you _don’t tell me_ what’s bothering you.”

“Olbern Keep.” Marth took him at his word and did said what was wrong. Marth’s tone was dryer than the sweat stained sands.

Merric’s hands relaxed from clenching his legs, just as he is relaxing on clenching on the balcony’s railing right now.

Marth continued wondering on; “I’d order my men to move, but even the calvary was too slow for me. Everyone was too slow, so I just kept pushing forward. I left nothing alive that moved in front of me till I saw her.”

Merric looked over Marth’s exposed leg. Though the red gash on his outer thigh was still cooking, the only imperfection was the sweat that was raining off of his body.

Marth simply heard Merric’s body moving. If he had the will, he would have shook his head. “Don’t bother looking… Jagen made everyone heal me, and not to speak of what happened in detail.”

Merric was still looking over Marth’s body. He spoke no louder then what the harsh storm’s winds would allow to be heard between the two men. “I know you’re not that strong. Who saved you from yourself at Olbern Keep?”

The line made Marth huff a groan due to the pain that was stabbing him on the inside of his throat. Marth’s bones were numbing, now only his lips and lungs moved. “Kris was behind me the whole time. Every battle, she’s been there. She’s never left my side, Merric.” Marth’s entire body started to coil inward. His flesh wound shocked his body to stop moving, but he disobeyed his own mind just so he could feel something in his heart. “I didn’t jump because I _needed_ to make sure that Kris was alright. She’d hurt herself or get herself lost if I’m not there to protect her. I can’t lose _anyone else._ ”

As Marth was shaking in pain, Merric got closer. The mage corrected Marth so that he wasn’t pulling on the ribbon like flesh on his leg, and made the Prince rest his head on his lap. Merric plucked the sand out of Marth’s oily hair. Marth’s eyes were squinted tight and his breathing was choppy. Merric’s gentle brushing was dusting away the glass shards. Marth’s walls were already dissolved by acid.

All that was left on Merric’s lap was his broken and sniffling old friend.“The last talk we had was a stupid argument. It doesn’t matter how strong I am, I’m sharp as a stick. Hardin snapped me, twice; First when he tricked me to leave my home, now back at the bridge where he crushed my army. But I can’t even blame him for her death. She’s gone because I was a damn fool. We were going to do so much, Merric. Not just the wedding, but us, together.”

“You can still enjoy those things - for her.” Merric said as he stroke Marth’s hair. His fingers pressed on his scalp and stroked him, just as he was doing to the railing. The memory was now clashing with reality. But Merric willingly kept the facade going, for it felt that alien to abandon Marth’s side even if it was imaginary.

The gentle stroking was easing the rising headache for Marth, but it did nothing to help his emotions. “I can’t do all the things we wanted to do together… She was so excited for that wedding. She organized every detail for us. It was the cutest thing I’ve ever seen, Merric. She had plans already in her diary she kept when she was a kid. We used _over_ _half_ of them. She even had _eleven_ different versions of her wedding dress. She drew them all out, and she even had the patterns pre-drawn all by herself, too. We never got to dance on her big day because of what Hardin did. How can I enjoy any of those things if she’s not here, Merric?”

There was a pause from Merric. “I could put on a dress and dance with you?” The cursed imagery made Marth let out a sharp scoff. The positive reaction made Merric dig deeper. “You could also order Sir Jagen, Dame Kris, and all your other knights to join me too.” Marth’s laughter matched with the crowds that were underneath Merric. The rumbling of the crowd now replaced the roaring of the winds.

Marth was steadily growing back to some level of control. His breathing was still in pain but neutral. Marth lifted his head off of Merric’s lap and looked at his leg. “Can - _May_ you help me some more, Please? I want to keep that scar, if that’s not too much to ask.”

“…I can heal it where it won’t limit you, but it would leave a pretty big mark.” He delayed, but Merric agreed. “Why do you want to keep it?” He asked, as the memory’s walls faded into the orange lights of the ball.

Merric could still see Marth’s tired smile while he rested his drained eyes. The small ounce of bliss from a simple choice was worth more than the gold that made his crown. “I want to keep it because I don’t want to forget what she just did for me… Reality feels so fleeting and I need something to remember that moment…But don’t tell anyone else, please? They’d take this scar away from me just as they did before. Please Merric, would you burden this secret with me?”

Merric was staring at the wood grain of third floor’s balcony railing. The people on the ground floor danced about like sands in the wind. Merric’s heart was thumping while holding a proud and tender smile, just as he made that promise back then to Marth.

_“I promise, Marth,…”_ Merric’s war torn body was still compelled to think that final followthrough.

**Author's Note:**

> Ahoy, it be me, Catti.
> 
> While >>THIS STORY YOU'RE ABOUT TO READ<<< follows the canon continuity,  
> this project is made from scrap notes for another project I'm doing/done called FE12REWRITE: https://imgur.com/a/EtN9dFQ
> 
> You can look at posts from my Reddit here; https://www.reddit.com/r/fireemblem/comments/99hmbk/fe12_new_mystery_rewrite_prologue_1_2/
> 
> The FE12REWRITE is a lets play / visual novel of the 12th installment of the Fire Emblem franchise. I interject and, well, rewrite the story as I play along. It gets meta, just as funny, and just as dark. If you enjoy the read here then I'd also recommend checking out the original project. There's a bunch of pretty pictures, 5000+ of them!
> 
> I would consider this story technically an "AU" of the FE12REWRITE. When plotting the general ebb and flow of the reactionary nature of the FE12REWRITE I needed to prepare the many different endings that FE12 can have. There are two main endings of the cannon game; GOOD ENDING, and BAD ENDING. BAD ending cuts the game off at chapter 20 wherein the credit's roll it's said that Kris dies when protecting Marth. Good ending is when you beat the bigger bad-er bad guy and everyone "lives". However, there's a caveat to this. Marth's army is the biggest in the series with around 80 different characters who have their own little blurb ending - so technically you have all there variables to work with. The real kicker in the teeth in this is that there's like 5 lines of dialogue in an ending where you end up getting Marth's fiance, Caeda, dead. I consider this an "ending" continuity-wise because the setting in Fire Emblem 13 - Awakening continues as if Marth had children.
> 
> This realization that Caeda can die but Marth still has kids means to me that internally with the developers there could be mandates saying what they can show as cannon. I've done my digging and though there's evidence that Caeda is 100% his wife-to-be, there is no explisit material that shows that Marth and Caeda ARE 100% married. I could say more about my observations through canonical material that it is nowhere stated that Caeda is the actual wife of Marth but I have only so many characters. Point is, I invested so much in researching this when preparing for the FE12REWRITE thinking about "who'd Marth would marry" that it felt it'd be a waste to not use my research. So to use my table scraps, I wrote these LITERAL NOVEL'S WORTH about justifying the chemistry between my interpretation of canon Kris and Marth.
> 
> It's ironic to say this story is an AU because the FE12REWRITE is already an AU of the canon FE12. So, while you're doing these mental gymnastics with me, it'd be better to view this story as such; The story you're about to read is birthed from a split timeline dubbed henceforth as "REWRITE". Said REWRITE split timeline that could be plausible happen but diverges from canon. The split that occurred in said REWRITE is this story. This story diverges from REWRITE and swings it right back into canon which the REWRITE is a divergence of.
> 
> Got all that?  
> Yes? Cool.  
> No? No worries; this is just the notes section. Your take away from this should just be that there's a lot of love and care in every ounce of this relationship between these characters. I write as if you have no idea wtf this fandom is anyway so it should be a fun, steamy, funny, hurt, angst-filled, read.
> 
> Final plugs, I post random shit on my patreon so if you enjoy my personality you can get some perks by becoming a Patreon; https://www.patreon.com/catticatgame
> 
> Here's my personal Twitter; https://twitter.com/Catti21234
> 
> I'm also an illustrator by trade so here is my portfolio; https://www.linkedin.com/in/bailey-cowell-675742177/
> 
> Archive of drawings I've posted on my twitter; https://twitter.com/cattiart
> 
> And Reddit url is in the top.
> 
> Discord is catti#7142
> 
> DMs are always open.
> 
> I had a lot of fun writing this. Outside of the FE12REWRITE, this is my first real crack at proper writing. I might make a career out of this, who knows. If you like what you see comment. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy yourself as much as I making this. Thank you for reading.
> 
> ~BCatti


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